


Legacy

by Salamander



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Blood, Domesticity, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post DMC5, graphic description of gore, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2020-01-14 14:57:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18478579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamander/pseuds/Salamander
Summary: After the events of DMC5, Nero gets a call about a demon sighting in Mitis Forest which ends up being a lot more than he expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So DMC5 was a fucking gift, you guys. And I can't believe I've shipped and RPed these fuckers for 6 years and only just now got to writing fic.

_ He blinks. The ground is hard; sticks poke into his soft, unguarded areas, rocks scatter underneath him as he scrabbles to rise upwards. He lays, panting and weaker than he can remember being for a long time. The demon fighting has taken it out of him, he thinks like lightning - or it should be like lightning - but his thoughts are sluggish. Perhaps they are sapped by the ground beneath him; the cold air blowing through his feathers; the distant sound of creatures rummaging in the undergrowth; the even more distant sounds of another demon escaping into the trees. _

_ He shudders and draws his wings closer around himself, a protection from the unaccustomed chill. His claws flex against the ground and he considers, dully, that he needs to find shelter.  _

_ Shelter, yes. A hole? No, what are they called… a cave, perhaps. Yes, a cave will do.  _

_ He stands, driven by purpose, a lance of it piercing his torpor like a spear through tender demon flesh. And even if the purpose is simply to survive? Well, he’s been living off that purpose for years untold, now. What is one more night? _

\- - -

“Yeah, Devil May Cry?”

“Oh my Saviour, thank you for answering! There’s a thing, it’s so big and scary and-”

“Woah, slow down. Start from the beginning.”

“In Mitis, uh, the forest. My brother saw a monster, like one of the angels from when Sanctus was-” A stifled sob followed, and Nero held the receiver away from his ear while the boy on the other end blew his nose. “From then. It’s really big, kinda white and purple. Huge claws! Like, really huge. Please, I don’t want more people to die…”

The kid trailed off, and Nero tutted. “Don’t worry, no-one’s gonna die. Mitis forest, yeah? You remember where?”

“N-near the big well, you know, that empty one? It’s all overgrown?”

“Yeah, I know where that is. Okay kid, I’m on it. You and your brother stay inside, yeah? I don’t wanna be tripping over your asses when swords’re flying.”

“Yeah okay, thanks Mister Nero.”

“Yeah yeah, you’re good. _ ”  _ Nero put the phone back on its receiver and shook out his hands with a grin. “Guess the work’s never done, huh?”

Nico banged on the worktop from in the back of the van somewhere, her voice muffled. “You got a new job or something? You gotta speak up you know! Can’t hear you over the drilling!”

“Well stop drilling then! What the fuck are you even doing back there? What even  _ needs _ drilling?”

“I got projects, shut your damn trap.” Nico stalked out from behind her workbench and slapped a devil breaker on Nero’s lap. “Take this and give it a good testing, will you? Prototype, needs some field experience.”

Nero held up the arm and tilted it this way and that, allowing the crystals encrusting the ridges of it to catch the light. “Looks fragile, you sure this is gonna be any use?” He slotted it over his hand and arm, flexing his fingers experimentally. 

“It’s not fragile, dumbass. Just test it out, you’ll see.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. I got a job, I’ll be back later. Mitis forest,  _ again _ .”

“Make sure you bring me a souvenir back this time, then.” Nico glowered at Nero, then ruined the effect by blowing upwards in an attempt to get her hair out of her eyes. “Don’t you go forgetting me again!”

“That was one time! Never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Hell no. I saw that thing, it had like, five tusks I coulda used. But no, dumbass over there had to let them fall into the river.” Nico waved her hand in the air violently, and Nero ducked out of the way of it.

“Alright alright, I’m going.” He pulled open the van door and jumped out before Nico could start hollering at him all over again, throwing her a jaunty wave before slamming the door behind him.

The air was crisp and cool and honestly pleasant after breathing in Nico’s smoke all morning. Nero took in a deep breath and bounced on his feet twice before setting off at a run. It was the kind of day that lent itself to running until his lungs burst; the chill air filling his chest and his legs burning from it. Some days, he just had so much restless energy that it honestly felt good to have demons to chase down and kill. 

Maybe that was dysfunctional, but Nero frankly didn’t give a fuck. He could be as dysfunctional as he liked and no-one he loved would give him shit for it. 

The forest started to close around him as he ran, blocking out some of the light but still leaving enough for him to see by. The air took on a staler feel as he made his way to the well, and Nero slowed his pace, taking in his surroundings with a watchful eye. 

He’d spent enough time in this place as a kid, playing tree houses or whatever with Kyrie and then afterwards, during the Sanctus bullshit, that he could find his way to the old well with very little trouble. 

It sat in a clearing surrounded by trees which had naturally thinned out, as though making way for the well. The thing hadn’t worked for years as far as he knew, although there’d always been the distant sound of water coming from deeper down than he could see, even with a torch. 

He crouched down next to the well and examined a patch of broken branches. There were leaves mixed in, and a few dry drops of blood, though they still smelled fresh, and some claw marks sunk into the soil and mulch which could only have come from a demon. 

It didn’t take an expert to notice the direction that the markings went towards - a cluster of small caves that he’d once explored alone, only to be chased out by a super pissed off bear or something. He’d not really stopped to double check what the fuck it was; just knew that it was huge, angry and really fucking scary. 

A bear wouldn’t bother him now though, of course, and so he headed off towards the caves, the scent of blood in his nose and the thrill of the hunt thrumming through his veins.

\- - -

_ The floor is hard and stony, and there is scat of some creature or other haphazardly strewn around, but he manages to sleep nonetheless, albeit in a tighter ball than he would have normally. _

_ He wakes to the openness of the cave, and the sound of footsteps nearby. The weather is slightly warmer and he feels it in his bones as he stretches out and takes a deep breath.  _

_ The footsteps draw closer, and he moves further into the cave, hides himself in the natural shadows within. It is hard, of course, with his colouring, but he presses himself against the wall nonetheless.  _

_ He sniffs the air, considering. There is danger, and it is lifting at his feathers like an itch just beneath the surface, and he doesn’t know what to do. The environment, the gentle warmth, the clean, untainted air, it all adds up to a whole mess of confusion. _

_ The footsteps echo into the cave, and he knows that he has no choice. He must strike first or risk death, and in his weakened state, outside of the hell he’s known for the last… however long it’s been… he doesn’t have much of a chance. Even with a first strike, it could be touch and go, but he does not let that stop him. _

_ He growls and flexes his claws, crouches to spring, hoping that this hunter will be temporarily dazzled by the cave darkness. _

Something sprang from the darkness with a guttural growl and Nero hopped back into a guarded crouch on instinct, avoiding it with ease. The lighting wasn’t so great, but it was enough that he could see the flash of white and feathers and what looked to be massive claws gleaming dully. There was a smell of injury in this cave and Nero smirked to himself. 

He revved the Red Queen idly, keeping his eyes on the demon which stalked him as the power built in his sword. 

The demon fell back, as though sensing something was different about this encounter, and Nero scoffed. “What, gone chicken all of a sudden? What happened to all that growling, huh?” He snorted. “Pathetic feathery fuck, I might as well not even bother with you. Smells like you’re gonna die soon enough anyway.”

The demon bared its teeth and flexed its claws, hissing. It began to pace him, circling as best it could considering it was basically backed into the cave with no escape. It seemed to take a deep breath and then rushed Nero all at once, a whirling mess of claws and sharpened wingtips and oh fuck, that was familiar.

Why was that so familiar? A flash of purple as the sunshine began to hit the cave, lighting up the shadows where the demon danced with Nero, blocking his slashes with his armoured wing and then he caught it in one of the huge, meaty thighs, and as it fell to its knees, he realised.

A broken, golden halo. 

Wing like a shield, all amethyst and gold-veined, though the other one was straggled, with feathers pulled out by the root and falling like snow and cream.

Blood trickled down the heavy feathers of it’s thigh and Nero slung Red Queen back over his shoulder, then walked closer with careful steps, holding out his hand in supplication.

“Credo?” he murmured, crouching down in front of him. “Credo, do you remember me? How are you here?” He reached forward and his fingers sunk into the thick sprouting of feathers at his shoulder.

At the contact, the demon - no,  _ Credo _ \- jumped away, alarm flashing in his eyes. The indigo of his chest flashed with bright blue like a warning signal, and he fell back onto his tail with a thump, scrabbling at the floor as he tried to escape from Nero.

A strange noise came from his mouth - a mix of something between a groan and a keen - and the blood flowed heavier from the wound on his thigh, staining the creamy feathers ink dark.

Nero closed the distance between them carefully and slowly, making soothing noises that he barely realised he was making until he had his hands in Credo’s feathers again.

The flesh beneath Nero’s fingers was thin and bony, and he tightened his fingers in the feathers with anger as he realised. Credo’d been… he’d been in the Underworld. In Hell. And it’d been, what? Years at this point. And fuck knows how time passed down there. For all Nero knew, Credo could have been trapped there, experiencing time slowed down, for hundreds of years. Thousands! Fuck.

His expression must have twisted, because Credo flinched away once more. “Hey, it’s okay,” Nero murmured, carefully schooling his face into one of calm pleasantness - about as far from the fury ripping through him as it was possible to be. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise, okay? Nothing’s gonna hurt you ever again, I  _ promise _ .” His words were fierce, but apparently Credo could tell that it wasn’t directed at him, as Nero felt him relax a little under his touch.

Shit, but the guy was  _ massive _ . Had he been this big when they fought? And that was even without all the weight and muscle which he’d had back then, and without all the gorgeous plumage giving him even more size. His feathers were a sad state of affairs, and Nero had to stop himself from gripping them too hard. Who knew what could cause them to fall out? It looked like a fucking stiff breeze could pluck him like a chicken, and even though it wasn’t the nicest thought, the image of it made Nero snort under his breath. 

“Come on, let’s get you up. Can you stand? Shit, can you even  _ understand  _ me? Uh, nod if you can or something, fuck, I dunno.”

Nothing.

Nero inhaled slowly and carefully. Okay, okay, that meant nothing. He bent and slid his arm under Credo’s, wrapping it around his back and pulling him into a half-standing, half-leaning position. “Fuck, this’d really be easier if I was in Devil Trigger right now. You’re too tall for this, Credo.” He sneaked a glance up at his face, searching for a sign of recognition at the sound of his name, but again: nothing.  _ Fuck _ .

“If I change, you’re not gonna go crazy and freak out on me, are you?” Nero grimaced, but what choice did he have? He was strong enough to lift Credo, but not damn tall enough to carry him all the way back through the forest and back home. With those huge, long-ass claws on his feet, he’d be dragging through all the obstacles and rocks and shit, and then leaving a nice trail of blood besides for any other demons that might’ve come through with him, and not to even mention that fucking wing shield thing.

No, he’d be better off changing and just flying them both home. With a long exhale, Nero shook himself and changed to his devil form. It’d taken him a long time to figure out how to fly for extended periods of time and not to just glide, but now that he could, it was simply a matter of picking Credo up, one arm under his knees and the other around his back, and springing into the air.

He grunted as he took the full weight of Credo against his chest, wings spreading out to catch the updraft from the forest below. He strained a little before getting into the rhythm, finally able to spare a glance down at Credo.

His face was pale - or at least, as pale as a face could be when it was already surrounded by so much creamy white fluff - and blood was running down his thigh in increasing gouts which were seeping their way through Nero’s clothes as he flew.

“Fuck,” Nero spat. A sense of urgency whipped through him and his gut clenched at the thought of losing Credo all over again. He sped up, arrowing through the sky with no thought for his own endurance or limits. 

Nero sighted the house himself and Kyrie shared and dove down towards it, crashing through the fence feet first and holding Credo even tighter to his chest to stop him getting injured by any flying wood or debris.

The house was empty, which was a mercy really. At least Nero wouldn’t have to try and explain everything to the kids or to try and keep Kyrie away from Credo while he healed up. And that was a given, wasn’t it? He was a demon for fuck’s sake, a little stab wound or two wouldn’t keep him down for long. Would it?

Nero growled in frustration as he barged his way into the house, fleetingly thankful that Kyrie always left the back door unlatched. It wasn’t as though they needed security in what remained of Fortuna, and even after the bullshit with Vergil - his  _ dad _ , ugh - she still insisted.  _ They would  _ **_always_ ** _ have their door open for anyone who needed it _ , she’d said with that bright-eyed expression of determination that always reminded Nero so much of Credo.

Luckily the house was old and tall-ceilinged enough that it didn’t prove difficult for Nero to navigate, even with his larger form, and his arms full of bewinged demon, and he managed to get upstairs to his bedroom in a matter of minutes.

Blood seeped from his feet, smearing across the wood flooring, and Nero was thankful for a second that they didn’t have carpet, because then Kyrie really  _ would _ kill him. He shoved aside the bedding and set Credo down gently on the sheets, wincing now that he could actually see the extent of the damage. 

Credo’s thigh was a bloodied mess; Red Queen had gone deep and severed some arteries by the looks of things, and blood still oozed from the wound, though slower now. It crusted in his feathers, matting them together until they were nearly indistinguishable from the smoother, scaled parts of Credo’s legs. At some point, his shield-wing had disappeared too - probably took too much conscious effort to keep it manifested when he was so injured.

Nero pushed another pillow under Credo’s head, careful not to squash his feathers in the wrong direction, and then ran for the bathroom, changing back to his human form on the way. The tall cupboard was full of towels, toiletries and medications, but it was easy to find the big, well-stocked first aid kit, as well as the box of heavier supplies that would definitely be needed for Credo. 

He hurried back into the bedroom and threw the kit on the bedside table without any care. The lid popped open from the force, and he grabbed bandages, antiseptic and some tweezers as well as a pair of long, thin scissors.

“Why are there no fucking cloths in here? Fuck!” Nero looked around the room desperately, then settled on a pair of underwear from the neat pile of clean washing on his chair. He tore the fabric in half and ran back to the bathroom, drenching one half of it with hot water from the tap and stuffing the other half into his back pocket. As an afterthought, he went back to the cupboard and fetched a plastic bowl too, filling that with more hot water. 

“Don’t go crazy on me, but this is gonna hurt like a bitch.” Nero knelt at the side of the bed  and balled up the wet cloth, then began dabbing gently around the wound. 

Credo arched up off the bed, claws scrambling for purchase as his eyes snapped open. He growled and lunged for Nero, but the movement caused blood to start oozing all over again.

Nero flashed into his devil form, baring his teeth in his own growl. He flexed both of his devil arms and held Credo down, although gently. “Stay put, you old bastard,” he hissed, “or you’re gonna tear yourself open even more!” 

Something akin to anger flashed through Credo’s eyes, but he submitted in the end; although whether from the pain or fear, Nero couldn’t tell.

“That’s better. Do I have to hold you down the whole time, or are you gonna be a good little demon?”

Credo nodded and set his jaw, and Nero slid back to human and picked up the wet cloth which’d gone flying. He dipped it in the bowl of water and started again, although firmer this time.

“These clots’re never gonna come off if I don’t go a bit harder, okay?” He rubbed Credo’s thigh, cleaning off the blood bit by bit; rinsing the cloth and cleaning some more until he finally got a good view of the wound.

It was long and deep as fuck, and it started bleeding again as soon as Nero cleaned the top coat of hardened blood from it. He hissed and Credo growled, flinching away from Nero’s hands but then visibly forcing himself to lay flat again.

Credo wrapped his claws into the blankets and clenched his fists while Nero squeezed out and rinsed the cloth. He applied more pressure this time, now that the wound was clear, in an attempt to soak up all the blood.

“Okay, hold this here for me. I need to get this disinfected.” Nero took hold of one of Credo’s hands and untangled his claws from the covers, ignoring the fact that Credo had basically shredded the duvet cover with all the claw clenching he’d been doing. He pressed the palm of it, that big, solid palm, over the top of the bundle of cloth and pushed down on it, hard, flashing a glance at Credo to make sure he understood.

“It’s gonna hurt like fuck, so remember what I said about not clawing my face off, yeah?” He grabbed the big bottle of antiseptic and the other half of his underpants from his back pocket. He folded the cloth into a wad and soaked it through with antiseptic until it was dripping with the stuff. He took a deep breath and looked back up at Credo, removed the blood-soaked wad and dropped it into the bloody bowl of water. 

Holding Credo’s thigh down with one hand, Nero pressed the wad of antiseptic-soaked cloth against his leg, letting it really get into the wound. A muffled, pained sound escaped from Credo’s mouth and, tamping down his instinct to stop, Nero just soldiered on. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I gotta clean this, god knows what the fuck you’ve got in here, could be anything.” He wiped the edges of the wound and the surrounding area, noting that although it was deep, the wound was pretty clean at the edges - guess he had Red Queen’s razor-sharp edge to thank for that.

He finished up disinfecting the wound and grabbed the bandages and gauze, tearing open the packages. “Alright big guy, that should do it. Here, lemme just-” Nero dropped the dirtied antiseptic cloth into the bowl along with the other piece, replaced it with a large rectangle of gauze and then realised with a jolt of  _ something  _ that Credo was watching him intently, head cocked like a bird.

“Okay, that’s not weird or anything,” Nero muttered as he unwound the length of bandage. “Come on, lift your leg a bit.” He lifted Credo’s knee until he could get the bandage under his thigh - god fucking damn, when did his thighs get  _ so big _ ? - and wrapped it tightly around and around until it was secure enough to be fastened with a safety pin as big as one of Credo’s claws.

“There, all done. Now you just need to eat like, fifty green orbs and we’ll have you fixed right up.” Nero laughed, but the edge of nervousness just wouldn’t fall away. Credo was looking pretty pale still, and honestly? It fucking terrified him.

Nero clenched both his fists, vaguely aware that his demon hands had manifested behind him and were also clenching. Credo’s eyes flicked to the blue hands and his brow furrowed faintly, as though he was unsure whether to be scared or not. God fucking damn it. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nero murmured, reigning in the emotions threatening to bubble out of him. “I’m not gonna hurt you Credo, it’s alright.” His demon hands disappeared too and he sat down on the edge of the bed. “I promise, nothing’s gonna hurt you again. I-” He took a deep breath. “I couldn’t save you last time, but this time it’s different, I  _ promise _ .” He took another breath, calming himself until he could speak without needing to swallow that lump in his throat. 

He reached out and took Credo’s hand, caressing the huge, deadly claws with a little shiver, then clutched it to his chest. “You’d better fucking heal up, you hear me? I swear I’ll kill you again if you don’t.”

The edge of what could have been a smile cracked on Credo’s face and Nero’s stomach did a flip. That was the second sign that he’d seen that maybe, just maybe, Credo understood him. And if he understood him, maybe that meant he wasn’t stuck as a feral demon. That there was a chance that Nero could get through to him, that shit, maybe he could even coax him back into his human form.

Assuming that he could even switch back and forth like Nero could, anyway.

Shit.

Without really thinking about it, Nero reached out and ran his hand down the side of Credo’s face. He was so soft, even though he’d clearly been through the fucking wars. “God, five years Credo man. Five fucking years.” And then something occurred to Nero. Something that Dante’d said to him in passing, once upon a time, about how time passed down there in the underworld.

“How long has it been for  _ you _ ?” Nero said quietly, his stomach sinking. He wasn’t expecting an answer, and when he managed to get up the courage to look into Credo’s face he realised that he’d fallen asleep. In a moment of panic, Nero pressed two of his fingers to Credo’s neck, and let out a huge breath when he felt a pulse there, although it was weaker than he would’ve liked.

“So much blood,” he breathed. “Can demons take blood transfusions?” Images of himself jury-rigging some kind of transfusion… thing… flashed through his mind and it was swiftly followed by the image of Kyrie finding out and killing him and then Credo too for being so damn dangerous in their own home.

“I mean, I’m part demon too, that’s gotta count for something, right?” He knew that he had to clear up the mess he’d made, bloody water on the floor and soaking cloths everywhere, but all he wanted to do was lay down next to Credo; to press his head against his chest and listen, just to prove to himself that he was real, he was there, and his heart was actually fucking beating against all the odds.

“Ugh, fine, I guess I’ll tidy up.” Not that Credo was actually saying anything, and really Nero was beginning to feel pretty damn stupid for chattering to himself like a weirdo, but honestly? It was kinda helping a bit. 

He wandered around the room, picking up the bowl along with his ruined underwear balls, and managing to somehow put away the first aid kit neatly. There were droplets of reddish water on the walls, but cleaning those was one step too far and Nero was almost dropping with exhaustion. The fight combined with all the stress and emotions seemed to have pushed him to his tipping point and he felt like he was walking through syrup.

“Fuck this,” Nero mumbled to himself. There was enough room in his double bed for him, even with Credo being so completely gigantic, and he crawled on top of the covers and pressed himself up against Credo’s uninjured side, resting his head against his chest just like he’d imagined. Credo’s heartbeat was slow but it was definitely there, and it lulled him into a deep, exhausted sleep within moments.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyrie comes home to what looks like a massacre trailed through the house. What she finds is more than a little unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are ready for some UNRELENTING FLUFF!!!

_ There is blinding pain in his leg, and something against his side, restricting his movements, and he rises in a flurry of growls and movement - or he would do, if he weren’t chained. The softness beneath him is stone, now, and he can feel thorns tangling behind him, into his feathers and forcing their way into his vulnerable flesh.  _

_ He has no shield, here. His claws are torn and cracked from his struggles, and he opens his mouth and keens in pain. _

_ A blue and red glow hovers in his periphery; a hand plunges into his stomach, twists, pulls out something vital and pulsing, and it drips with his own gore.  _

_ It smells good.  _

_ Good like raw meat, like flesh that he’s hunted himself, torn open with his own teeth and beak and claws; that he’s buried his face in until his senses are all blood and ichor, and the thing holding him at the side clings harder until he is becoming part of it, his sense of self is dissolving under its touch and he doesn’t know who he is anymore he is the hunter but now he is hunted and held and trapped and safe all at once and he doesn’t know what to do it’s been so long since something touched him and  _ **_oh-_ **

Nero jerked awake as claws thrashed at the covers, tangling him up in a spray of sheets and feathers, just as the bedroom door slammed open to reveal a gaggle of small boys.

The kids. Shit! The kids! And Credo!

“Nero? Are you okay? Why is there weird blood everywh-” Kyrie’s voice grew closer and she came to an abrupt halt in the doorway behind the kids, both hands over her mouth. 

“It’s okay!” Nero shouted, trying desperately to untangle himself from the covers and Credo’s wings, which were beating against his head and body until Nero felt like he was gonna be black and blue by the end of it. 

“Calm down big guy, calm down! It’s all okay!” He surfaced and flung the covers onto the floor, then reached out for both of Credo’s hands, clutching them with his own tightly. “Deep breaths, remember where we are, yeah? You’re safe, big guy. No demons here except me and you.”

Credo calmed, although he was still breathing heavily, those little grunts and growls falling from his mouth as though he’d never spoken before in his life.

Kyrie swiftly ushered the kids into her bedroom, kneeling down in front of them at the doorway. “I’ve just got to deal with this, okay? I don’t want you to see Nero injured again, you know how scary that was last time, right?”

Julio nodded and took hold of Kyle and Carlo’s hands and led them over to the bed. “We’ll be okay in here. Look, we got some new toys at the weekend, we can play with those, right?” He hopped up onto the bed and pulled the toybox up with him, spreading out the contents across the covers. 

Kyrie smiled, then closed the door behind her and let the worry resurface. “Nero, what  _ is _ this? Why is- is that a  _ demon _ ?” Her voice grew quieter, though her fear was written plain on her face. She closed Nero’s bedroom door quietly and then turned, her back against it and one hand on the door handle, ready to protect the kids with her life if she had to.

Nero’s heart swelled with warmth, and he smiled at her, tiredly. “No, it’s not- he’s not a demon. It’s Credo, Kyrie. It’s  _ Credo _ .”

As though reacting to his name, or maybe even Kyrie’s, Credo looked towards her sharply and made a strange chirping sound, deep in his throat. His head feathers rustled and attempted to stand up, but they were far too wilted and shabby to even manage.

Kyrie took a step forward, then another. “What do you mean? Credo’s  _ dead _ , Nero. You saw him die, remember?” She held out a hand towards him, beckoning. “Come on, come away from it, while it’s still docile.” 

Credo started to move towards Kyrie, but he was brought up short by the bandages on his leg, and he groaned in pain. He shot a look at Nero, then back at Kyrie, eyes searching for some truth in their faces.

Nero squeezed Credo’s hands. “Do you recognise her?” he said softly. “It’s Kyrie, your sister. Do you remember?”

“Nero, Credo’s dead.” Kyrie took careful steps towards the bed, both hands held out like she was soothing a scared kid. “Come away from the demon, before it hurts you.” She came round the side of the bed and put her hand on Nero’s shoulder, and he noticed just how much she was shaking.

He put his own hand on top of hers, then pulled it over towards Credo’s. He tugged on Credo’s hand too and then pressed them both together, palm to palm, wrapping his own hands around them. “Don’t you feel it?” he whispered. “And Credo, you recognise her, don’t you?” 

He turned to watch Credo’s face, noting every twitch of his feathers, every movement in his throat as more of those little chirpy noises fell from his lips. Goddamn he sounded like a gigantic fucking demonic bird. That shouldn’t even remotely be adorable, and yet there he was filled with this sudden urge to ruffle those big fluffy head-feathers; to rub his face against them and nuzzle into Credo’s neck and fall asleep in those big arms, just like he’d done last night.

Kyrie looked into Credo’s eyes and whatever she saw there made her eyes soften with tears. “How is this possible?” she breathed, pulling Credo’s hand to her lips and kissing his scaled knuckles.  

“I dunno. I got a call this morning from some kid saying there was a demon in the forest. Found him in a cave, injured already too. No idea what happened to him, but he looked like crap even before we uh-” God, she was gonna kill him. “Before we fought.”

“You fought? Again?” Kyrie’s look could have cut the air between them.

“Yeah, I didn’t realise it was him! And he attacked me first, anyway.” And yeah, that sounded like one hell of an excuse, but it  _ was _ true. “And then I recognised him and carried him home, bandaged him up like a pro and here we are.”

“Like a pro.” Kyrie glanced around at the bloody water marks on the walls with an unimpressed eyebrow. She turned her attentions back to Credo. “Do you think he can understand us? Can he change back?” 

The hope in her voice nearly killed Nero, but all he could do was shrug. “I uh, I don’t actually know? He seems to kinda get what I’m trying to say, but all he’s done so far is make those weird chirping noises.”

Credo chirped, as if in response, and Nero dissolved into laughter. “Yeah, just like that, big guy.” He patted Credo’s other hand. “But the changing back? I dunno. I mean, he’s been down there for five years, that’s a long-ass time.”

“You think maybe he can’t remember how?”

“Mm.” Nero lifted Credo’s hand to his own lips and kissed it too, breathing in the strange, feral scent of him. 

“Well, whatever he does, I think he needs a bath. And we need to explain to the kids.”

“Crap, the kids! Are they okay? Did they see?”

“I think they saw a little, yeah. They’ll be okay though, Julio’s looking after the little ones. And it’s not like they haven’t seen demons before.” She glanced guiltily at Credo. “Uh, not that I’m saying you’re a demon, Credo. Just. Oh.”

Nero chuckled. “It’s alright, I’m sure he gets it, right big guy?” Credo looked up at him, cocked his head for all the world like the gigantic bird demon thing he resembled. And then, wonder of all fucking wonders, he nodded his head slowly. Squeezed Nero’s hand with his own, and then mirrored his movement, pressing a kiss to the back of Nero’s hand.

Credo held Nero’s gaze the whole time, and Nero couldn’t help but gasp. And then, even more surprising, perhaps, he spread both of his wings and pulled Nero and Kyrie in towards him, somewhat rough and unrefined, maybe, but that didn’t matter because they were all together again, in a careful pile on the bed, leaning against Credo’s huge chest just like they both used to do when they were kids, after waking from a nightmare.

“Hey, careful, don’t open your wound again!” Nero struggled a little, trying to get a look at the bandaged thigh beneath him. “Damn, I just realised - I should totally have sewn that up, shouldn’t I?”

“You didn’t sew him up? Oh Nero.” Kyrie slapped him gently on the shoulder, “I suppose you forgot all your field medicine?”

Credo looked down at Nero and smiled, laughter dancing in his eyes, although tinged with pain. He nodded slowly, and Nero could almost hear his voice admonishing him.

“Okay enough of the cuddle pile, come on Credo, I guess I’d better finish up here, huh?” Nero levered himself from Credo’s arms with great reluctance, although considering that the bandages and gauze were now soaked through, he figured he’d better get a bit more of a move on.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it.” Kyrie extracted herself and then bent to kiss Credo’s forehead. “I’m going to go get the kids and explain what happened, okay? They’ll be wondering what’s going on.”

“Give Nico a call, would you? I think we’ll need some help later.”

“Sure thing.” Kyrie took one more loving glance at Credo, then turned to leave. “I’ll get dinner ready too. Try not to be too long, and make sure you clean up afterwards, please.” She shot a pointed look at the stains on the wall and then left, closing the bedroom door behind her.

\- - -

True to her word, Kyrie called up the stairs about an hour and a half later. Thankfully, Nero’d managed to get Credo’s wound cleaned up again and sewn up too, and he hadn’t done a half bad job too, if he said so himself. The bandages were clean and tight, and Nero had to stop himself from thinking about how they only served to highlight the thickness of Credo’s thigh. 

He’d been thinking about those thighs a little more than he really should’ve… About how they might feel wrapped around his waist, or-  _ shit _ . He shook his head to dislodge the thoughts. Definitely not the time!

“Okay, food’s ready. Do you think you can walk downstairs?” Nero held out his hand to Credo, who took it carefully. 

Credo considered for a second, head tilted to one side, and then nodded and gave a little growl of assent. He rose from the bed, a little unsteady, using Nero’s shoulder as a support. 

It looked like he couldn’t hold the full weight of his body with both legs, so Nero wrapped his arm around Credo’s waist and changed into his devil form, to give them both better balance. “Alright come on, let’s get some food, I’m fucking starving, dunno about you.”

Credo nodded and growled, and there was a smaller growl that followed it which totally came from his stomach. Nero laughed, and together they managed to get downstairs without any mishaps or any of them falling on their faces.

Everyone’s places had already been set at the table as they came through the kitchen door, and Nero gave the kids a little wave with his ghostly blue hands. They were gaping at him and Credo with wide eyes, but then all three of them burst into giggles, and he could almost feel the tension dissipate. They weren’t too afraid of demons, considering they’d seen Nero himself in his devil form enough times to be used to it, but he figured that Credo was something totally new and they might well be scared.

“Took your sweet time, didn’t you?” Nico hollered as she swept into the kitchen, holding a huge terracotta bowl full of something that smelled absolutely divine. “Thought you were trapped in bandages up there or something.” She set the bowl down and lifted the lid with a flourish. “There we go, eat up kids!”

The table was full; a large heap of suet dumplings on one side, buttered chunks of bread on the other, and the centrepiece bowl that Nico’d brought in - the stew itself - smelled like beef and with plenty of potatoes and veggies bobbing around in all the gravy.

Nero pulled out a chair, well more of a stool really, and helped Credo sit down on it before shifting back into his human form and perching on another one next to him. They both had bowls laid out already, with little plates for the bread, and he could feel the warmth of Credo’s huge, feathered body next to him.

“I made your favourite,” Kyrie said softly as she sat down on Credo’s other side, “do you remember, Credo?” She smiled openly at him, then took his bowl and filled it to the brim with stew, ladelling in three big dumplings and setting it back down in front of him. She leaned against his other shoulder, and he nodded down at her, taking a huge inhale of the steaming bowl in front of him. 

Credo reached out and took a piece of bread too, and placed it carefully on his little plate, and Kyrie couldn’t help but laugh delightedly. “You look like you need at least seven good meals on you before you’re done,” she said, decidedly, with a little poke against Credo’s ribs. “You’re all skin and bones.”

The kids were all elbows, and Nico bopped Carlo on the head as he got in a slap fight with Kyle over the biggest chunk of bread. “There’s enough for both of ya, quit it.” She broke it in half and set one on each of the boys’ plates, and they groaned out loud.

“But Julio got a bigger piece!” Kyle grumbled, taking a vicious bite out of his bread.

“And Julio is bigger than you,” Kyrie said with a sweet smile. “If you eat all that bread first, you won’t have any room for your stew, baby, you know the rules.”

Kyle took hold of his spoon and jammed it into the stew bowl, then chewed sullenly on a piece of potato. 

Nico grinned over the heads of the kids at Kyrie, her own mouth full of stew. “This food is great, babe. I don’t think we’ve had this kinda stew before?”

Kyrie smiled a little sadly, resting her eyes on Credo. “It was difficult to cook, with all the memories. Our mother used to make it for us, when we were very small, do you remember Credo? Before we even had Nero living with us. It was always our favourite.”

Credo looked back at Kyrie, chewing thoughtfully as he pondered. He nodded slowly, holding her gaze with meaning. 

“Goddamn,” Nero said with feeling, “I wish you could just talk already!”

“Nero! Not in front of the kids!” Kyrie shot him a murderous glance, but it soon softened as she turned back to Credo. “I wish you could too, though. What do you think it is?”

Credo shrugged elaborately, a strange combination of movements with his wings involved, but it got the point across. He could understand them, and respond in kind, but the words were just not there. He cocked his head to one side again, then touched his fingers to his throat, where his voice box sat, probably, and then followed it with another shrug. 

“Maybe demons just don’t have the right tools to talk,” Nico said between bites of food. “You know,” she waved her fork around, “like, what if they don’t have the vocal cords and stuff?”

“I dunno, I can talk when I’m like that.” Nero thought while he chewed. “And so can Dante and Vergil, we all can.”

“But this is different,” Kyrie replied, and placed her hand gently on Credo’s arm. “Credo wasn’t born like this, he was  _ made _ .” 

“He spoke in that form too, back when-” Nero swallowed hard, pain in his voice and that sick feeling in his stomach which always happened when he thought about their fight. “Back then, you know. While we were, uh. Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “He could definitely talk.”

“Practice!” Nico said suddenly, then took a huge mouthful of potato. “It’s been what, five years?” she said between chewing, “bet he’s not spoken to a single damn soul down there that whole time, right big guy?” She swallowed, then gestured at Credo with her fork. “Bet you he just needs to practice. Like those kids who grow up in the forest, you know?”

“Kids in the forest?” Kyrie shook her head and smiled gently. “I know what you mean. Maybe we just need to teach him all over again. Like riding a bike, maybe it’ll just be muscle memory after a while.”

“How the hel-” Nero stopped himself just in time, “uh,  _ heck _ do you plan on doing that? Get him on some alphabet books or something?”

A strange, almost snorting noise came from Credo all of a sudden, and Nero turned sharply only to see that his shoulders were shaking with what looked like laughter. 

“Alright, you weird bird demon man, do you have any better ideas?” Nero elbowed Credo in the ribs, but gently enough that he wouldn’t hurt him, and shit, goddamn he was still so fucking  _ skinny _ it hurt to even elbow him.

Credo shrugged again and shovelled a forkful of food into his mouth.

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” Nero snorted with laughter. “Well, I guess it’s a start at least. Hey, maybe you could go to school with the kids.”

He got a pointed glare from three sets of eyes at that, and he just dissolved into laughter, feeling somehow more carefree than he had done in years. “Well whatever, we’ll figure it out.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Credo is sleepy and stinky, and Nero helps him out with both.

With the kids, they didn’t have a spare room left in the house any more, so between them they’d decided that Credo would be sharing Nero’s room. It wasn’t much different from when Nero was growing up - he’d been plagued with nightmares for a few years after Credo and Kyrie took him in, and he’d spent quite a lot of time wandering into Credo’s bed in the night for comfort. To go up to his bedroom now, side by side with Credo - even if he did look totally different - it was like a happy slice of his childhood carved out in his new adult life. 

The meal took all the energy out of Credo, and he’d almost sagged off the stool by the end of it. Nero’d wrapped his extra devil arms around him again and they’d walked up the stairs together and into the bedroom. 

“You’re definitely stinky,” Nero murmured, leaning into Credo’s shoulder, “but too tired for a bath now, huh?

Credo nodded and groaned under his breath. Nero could feel his leg trembling, and he figured that all the weight on his thigh wouldn’t be helping the healing process any. “Alright,” he said, decisive. “Sleep now, bath in the morning, yeah? Or shower, or whatever. And we’ll have to redo your bandages too, obviously.” 

He was glad that he’d removed the dirty bedding earlier, and the fresh sheet smell greeted him as he laid Credo down in the bed. “Smells good, huh? Does it bring back any memories for you?” As far as he knew their brand of washing detergent hadn’t changed at all since he was a kid.

Credo nodded again, tiredly, and Nero smiled down at him. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you talking as soon as we can. For now, just rest, yeah? We’ll deal with all that in the morning. What was that shit you used to say to me when I was a kid?” He tapped his chin, trying to remember. “Everything’ll look brighter in the morning, yeah?”

Credo bared his teeth in a smile, then sank his head down onto the pillow. His eyes drooped and he curled onto his side and fell asleep almost instantly - clearly the full belly and exertion had done a number on him, and fuck knew what else’d happened in that forest before Nero found him.

Nero yawned massively. The food was starting to weigh him down as well, and even though they’d both napped earlier in the day, he was sleepy as fuck. Maybe it was just empathetic sleepiness, but all he really wanted to do was curl up against Credo’s big, feathery body and have a snooze. 

Well, who was he to not give in to better judgement? And what even did he have to stay awake for anyway? It was getting dark, Kyrie and Nico were on kid duty since he was on Credo duty, so fuck that shit. He shrugged off his shirt and dropped it on the floor, unfastened his jeans and kicked them off, and then paused. Would it be weird to get completely naked and sleep next to Credo?

...Probably. He left on his boxers and grabbed a loose sleeping shirt from the cupboard, pulling it over his head sleepily. “Okay, I hope you don’t freak out again in the morning big guy, but I’m getting into bed.” He didn’t bother with the covers, since it was a pretty mild night and all, and Credo was laid on top of them besides. Just got into bed in front of Credo, snuggling up with his back against Credo’s chest. He laid there for a moment, mind racing, then without thinking about it enough to make him hesitate, he reached around and took one of Credo’s big hands, pulled it around his waist, until he was tucked against him like a real little spoon. The softness of Credo’s feathers and his gentle breathing lulled Nero off to sleep within minutes.

\- - -

Nero awoke with the dawn with the feeling of Credo beginning to twitch behind him; to flex his claws into Nero’s stomach. Nero turned quickly, reaching up and cupping Credo’s face with both hands. “Hey, hey it’s alright Credo, I’m here, it’s just me,” he murmured, stroking Credo’s gold-ridged cheeks with both thumbs. “It’s just nightmares, you’re safe here with me and Kyrie, remember?”

Credo’s eyes slid open slowly, his eyelids flickering until finally managed to focus on Nero’s face. He took deep breaths, clearly calming himself, and then leaned his forehead against Nero’s, closing his eyes as he focused on his breathing. 

The feathers on his forehead were soft too, and Nero smiled as they pillowed against his own head. “Like a cloud,” he said, overcome with warmth and early-morning sleepiness. “Feeling better, big guy?”

Credo nodded slowly, breathed out once more and then opened his eyes to gaze into Nero’s. He opened his mouth, coughed a little, and then made a strange, straining noise, lips forming the shapes he saw on Nero’s. “N-ni-” he growled and shook his head in frustration, bared his teeth. 

“Nightmares, yeah I know. It must fucking suck for you, huh?” He shook his head, heart hurting for Credo.

Another frustrated noise. Credo squeezed his eyes closed and clenched his fists, knotting them into the back of Nero’s sleep shirt. “Nigh-,” he managed, slowly and painstakingly, then growled deep in his throat. “-mares!”

“Fuck yeah, that’s it!” Nero laughed out loud, almost doing a full-body wiggle he was so pleased. “I guess you’ve not used those muscles for a while. Guess it’s like physiotherapy, but for your throat. Vocal cords, you know?”

Credo nodded and growled again, trailing off to mutter “nigh’mare...”

“Yeah exactly. It  _ must  _ be a fucking nightmare, not being able to talk to us. Shit, I really wish you could talk to us…” Nero hung his head.

“T-talk…” Credo ducked his head to follow Nero’s gaze, dragging it back up. “Practice?”

And sure, maybe the words didn’t quite sound right somehow, and maybe they did sound like a mix between weird demon speak and actual English, but they could work with it. 

“Practice, yup.” Nero let go of Credo’s face and patted him on the shoulder, unable to stop himself from grinning wide and squeezing and, oh fuck Credo was so  _ thin _ even his shoulders felt knobbly. “Practice and  _ food _ , fuck Credo, you need to eat.”

“Food,” Credo agreed, nodding his head. His stomach growled and Nero instinctively looked down at it, then remembered the bandages and the dirt and yeah, Credo still stank like shit. 

“Okay, remember last night when I said you needed a bath? Yeah, you need a bath.” Nero smirked. “I think if I let you go anywhere else like this, Kyrie’ll kill us both.”

Credo snorted out a laugh, huffing a breath upwards that made his head feathers flutter. He nodded and made a noise of assent as well, apparently still well aware that Kyrie, for all of her mild manners and general angelic appearance, could definitely be a hard-ass about some things. And yeah, cleanliness was one of the biggies.

“Well, the bath in my bathroom is pretty big, so you should fit in it at least.” He looked at Credo’s wings, sizing them up mentally. “Although you might have to angle those upwards a bit, or fold them up or something. Shame they’re not like mine.” Nero’s wings sprung out, unfurling in the morning sunlight and flexing, clearly showing off. “But well, you can’t have everything I guess.”

He sat up, all of a sudden reluctant to leave the warm softness of the bed. “Come on then, let’s get it over with.” Nero reached out for Credo’s hand and helped him to get up and out of bed, using his wings to stabilise him as well. 

Between them, they managed to get into the bathroom with no drama, and Nero sat Credo down on the toilet seat as he turned the taps on and started to fill the bath. “Okay, you’re not gonna like it, but I gotta take that bandage off now so we can make sure it’s properly clean.” He knelt down in front of Credo and reached up with his wings, caressing the side of his face with one blue hand as he used his boring old human hands to start unbandaging. 

“Well, this doesn’t look too bad.” The gauze wasn’t completely soaked through this time - there was only a little gunk around where he’d stitched the wound. “I’m not sure whether you should be getting it wet, though, now I think about it.” Nero tapped his chin, thinking for a moment. “Wait a minute, Nico’s got some weird tape shit she uses for her tattoos.” He stood up abruptly, wings tucking themselves away again. “I’ll be right back, you just stay there okay?”

Credo nodded. “Okay,” he managed, thickly. He looked down at his stitches, idly tracing the shape of the wound with one claw as Nero dashed out of the bathroom.

“Nico’s gonna kill me,” Nero laughed to himself as he jogged out of his bedroom and down the corridor. He could hear sounds of movement and quiet voices from Kyrie and Nico’s bedroom, though, so maybe he was saved from a kicking for waking them up.

He knocked softly on the door. “Hey it’s me, can I just grab something from your bathroom real quick?”

“What kinda time d'ya call this?” Nico yelled from somewhere in their bedroom. A yelp followed, presumably from Kyrie elbowing her in the ribs.

“Of course, just come right in.” Kyrie was all sweetness and light, smiling at Nero as he shuffled into the room. As expected, Nico was rubbing her ribs and she shot Nero a glare.

“I just need to borrow some of that tape stuff you always use for your tattoos? Uh,” Nero paused, sketching out a roll of tape with his hands in the air. “You know, so that you can have a shower without all the gunk and shit getting wet?”

Nico shot him another glare. “The gunk and shit, uh-huh.”

“It’s so I can tape up Credo’s stitches, okay? I don’t want them to go all soggy or whatever, and he  _ really _ needs a fucking bath.”

It was Kyrie’s turn to shoot daggers at Nero, just as, as if on cue, the boys shoved their way past Nero’s legs and dived on the bed giggling. “Language,” she hissed, before turning her attention to the kids.

“Sorry, sorry.” He turned to Nico, miming the roll of tape again. “So, can I borrow the tape?”

“Course you can, dummy. I’ll grab it for ya, don’t you go rummaging around in our bathroom.”

Nero snorted. “Yeah, no telling what I’ll find in there,” he replied, and then flopped down onto the bed next to the boys. “Guess I woke you guys up too, huh?” He grabbed Kyle and wrestled him into a hug, giving him a noisy kiss right on top of his head. 

“We were already awake,” Julio said with a huge grin. “Kyle didn’t want to go back to sleep so we came to surprise mama.”

“Well, I guess you definitely surprised her.” Nero looked up at Nico as she wandered back into the bedroom and slapped the roll of tape onto the bed next to him. 

“There ya go, should be enough there for it, right?”

Nero picked up the tape and examined it. “Yeah looks fine, thanks Nico.” He extricated himself from the pile of boys and stood up. “So what you guys up to today?”

“Figured we’d go to the zoo,” Nico said with an easy grin, plopping herself down on the bed and allowing Kyle to wrestle her backwards. “See the animals, yeah?”

“The animals!” Kyle shrieked, wrapping both arms around Nico’s neck and snuggling up to her. “Will the penguins be out this time?”

“Maybe they will,” Kyrie said with a smile. “Nero, make sure you let me know how Credo’s doing, alright?”

“I’ll text you, don’t worry.” Nero gave Kyrie a thumbs up and then left the room before he could get caught up in the debate about penguins which began to rage behind him. What did penguins eat? Did they fight each other for fish? Maybe they do tricks!

He shook his head fondly. “Hey Credo, I’m back. I got tape, see!” Credo was just where he’d left him, sat on top of the toilet seat, but it looked like he’d been poking around the bathroom cabinet, since the door was open and all. “Find what you were looking for?” 

Credo raised an expressive eyebrow, levelling a stare at Nero that would’ve made a nun blush. “ _ Messy _ ,” he said, with evident delight as he managed to articulate the word. 

“Yeah yeah, don’t you get on my case too. It’s a full time job you know, kicking demon ass all day.” He crouched down in front of Credo and held up the tape. “Now, are you gonna keep sassing me or can I tape up that leg of yours? I don’t want my stitches to dissolve, I don’t even know what’d happen to your wound if it got all soggy.” He pulled a face. “Maybe you’d get gangrene and it’d fall off, who knows. Can demons even  _ get _ gangrene?”

“No,” Credo said with what sounded like a laugh. “Uh, no gang-r…” he trailed off, not liking that combo of letters apparently. “No,” he said again, with finality.

“Alright alright, well either way. Come on, lift up that big old foot of yours.” 

Credo obliged, and Nero managed to get his thigh all strapped up - the tape thankfully stuck to his feathered parts, even though Nero’d been a little worried that it wouldn’t. It was a garish fluorescent green and stuck out like a sore thumb against the creamy feathers, but it was better than getting water and soap into the wound.

By the time they were done, the bath was full enough - and probably hot enough - for Credo. Nero perched on the corner of it and trailed his hand through it, considering. “I think that’ll do - you got scales and feathers, so I don’t reckon you’ll be too bothered about it being hot, right?”

“No. Okay,” Credo said, and shook his head. He stood, shakily, and leaned against Nero for support. 

“Come on then, let’s get you in. Can you lift your legs?” Nero looked down at Credo’s big clawed feet and winced at the potential damage to the bath. Ah well, couldn’t be helped. And besides, there were more important things to worry about than some scratches in a goddamned bath.

They definitely lost a fair bit of water as Credo slid into the bath, even with Nero helping him get situated enough to not cause a tidal wave, but the way his eyes rolled back and the little groan of bliss was enough of a repayment that Nero figured a bit of water on the floor wouldn’t kill anyone.

“How’s that feel?” he murmured, perching on the back of the bath. It was just large enough for him to sit on the tiles along the back of the bath and still be able to lean forward to help Credo, who sat pretty much with his back against Nero. 

“Good,” Credo said with a long, languid sigh of pleasure. “ _ Very, very good _ .” He leaned his head back against Nero’s knees, eyes closed and a soft smile gracing his lips. 

Nero reached forward and dipped his hands into the water, scooping up two handfuls and dumping them onto Credo’s chest. “Come on, scaly, let’s get you all wet.” It took more than a few handfuls of water to really get it soaked into his feathery parts, but eventually Nero had him dripping wet and, honestly, looking hilariously small compared to normal.

“It’s like you’ve shrunk three sizes! Big fluffy feathers, I guess.” He leaned forward again, slipped both his feet into the water on either side of Credo’s waist, and rested his cheek against Credo’s face. “I really fucking missed you,” he breathed, just inhaling the deep, feral scent of him. He closed his eyes and pushed both of his hands further down, rubbing Credo’s chest without really thinking about what he was doing.

Credo groaned long and low, and Nero felt the rumble of it through Credo’s chest and his face. He opened his eyes and saw Credo visibly relax, sliding further into the water as he allowed his knees to bend a little. And then the plates at his crotch were moving apart, organic and smooth and surprisingly hot, and Credo’s dick slid out as he exhaled, as though it was perfectly normal. 

Nero’s eyes widened, and he tightened his fists into Credo’s feathers subconsciously. He swallowed hard, eyes flicking down to Credo’s dick and then up to stare at the bathroom tiles, desperately trying to squash the wave of arousal that was washing through him. 

“Okay?” Credo opened his eyes and lifted his head, turning slightly so he could see Nero out of the corner of his eye. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine, why?” Nero cleared his throat and unclenched his fists from Credo’s feathers. “You comfy there, big guy?”

“Comfy,” Credo agreed with a wide, slow smile. He looked back down into the water and then cocked his head as he noticed his dick. “Huh,” he murmured, reaching down to touch it experimentally with one gentle clawed finger.

“Guess that’s never happened before, huh?” Nero chuckled under his breath, not quite sure whether he was imagining the atmosphere he was feeling. 

“Never happened.” Credo ran his palm along the underside of his dick and Nero got a full, glorious view of it. Thick at the base and, shit, thick all the way up really. Plates on the underside that made his breath come shallow at the thought of how they’d feel inside his ass, against his skin, in his mouth,  _ shit _ .

“Uh Credo,” he breathed through the lump in his throat, “you probably don’t wanna be doing that in the bath right now.” 

Credo’s head jerked up and he looked around at Nero, something like alarm on his face. “It’s bad.” He let go of his dick, blushing a deeper shade of purple. “Forgot,” he mumbled, looking back down at the water. 

“Hey, it’s okay!” Nero wrapped both his arms around Credo’s chest and hugged him. “Nothing to worry about, okay? You’re still getting used to yourself, I guess. Not like there’s much time in the underworld to be getting your dick out and jerking off, huh?” He snorted with laughter, and Credo laughed too, relaxing further back into Nero’s embrace.

“Okay,” he said, smiling. “Not worrying.” 

“We should really get you clean before this water goes cold.” Nero leaned over and just about managed to grab the strong, minty shower gel sitting on the side of the bath. “You’ll smell fresh as a… um… really fresh thing soon enough!”

The gel lathered up nicely in his hands, and Nero leaned forward, rubbing it all over Credo’s chest and working it deep into his feathers, until he basically looked like a gigantic minty cloud. “I dread to think what’s gonna wash off you,” he said with a laugh. “Here, take some and do your legs.” 

He squeezed out a hefty amount of shower gel into Credo’s outstretched palm and busied himself scooping water up and rubbing it through his chest feathers until slowly but surely, the water became grimy as fuck and Credo himself began to look almost like his former self. Apart from still being emaciated of course, but Kyrie had that in hand - a few of her meals and he’d be on his way back to his old muscular physique, no doubt.

“Okay this water is gross, we’re gonna have to let it out and rinse you off properly,” Nero said, finally, as the water itself had turned pretty much black. He stood up and hopped off the bath, leaning over to pull out the plug and let the grossness drain away. “You stay sitting there and I’ll just shower you off, huh?”

“Shower,” Credo looked down at himself, holding out his arms and examining them thoughtfully. “Clean now,” he said, smiling, and Nero was struck by how much more he’d been smiling in the last day or so than he felt like he’d ever seen Credo smile way back when. Goddamn, but it suited him.

“Bet that feels better, doesn’t it.” Nero reached up and unhooked the shower head, then flipped the little lever over and turned on the water again, testing it with his hand as the stream started to heat up. When it was no longer scalding hot, he turned the shower head onto Credo and started to rinse the foam off him, getting deep into his feathers to make sure he got it all off.

The whole time, Credo’s dick was still just… out there, chilling. If he really thought about it, it wasn’t that much of a big deal, really. If anything, Nero figured that it might be a good sign that Credo was relaxed enough for it to happen anyway. And uh… not to mention that it was a pretty damn good-looking dick, too. Nero had to stop himself from staring at it more than once, and he just got on with rinsing Credo until he was squeaky clean. 

Quite literally, too. Nero turned off the shower and hung it back up, and he couldn’t help but snigger as Credo began to squeeze the water out of his feathers, his hands squeaking the whole time like he was wringing out a mouse or something. “You sound hilarious,” Nero said with a huge smirk. He turned and grabbed the large sheet towel that was hanging on the heated towel rail - honestly one of his favourite ever things - and he held it out for Credo. 

“Come on, can you stand or do you need some help?”

“Help,” Credo said with a rueful smile. He looked down at the taped up wound on his leg and shrugged elaborately. “Think for long time.”

“Hah yeah, sounds about right.” Nero laid the towel on the floor to catch the drips and leaned in, and together they managed to get Credo out of the bath and standing on the towel. “Okay, lift up and I’ll-” Nero pulled the towel out from under Credo’s obligingly-lifted feet, one at a time, and then wrapped it around him, wings and all. “I uh… think we need bigger towels.” 

Credo almost looked ridiculous, swathed in a towel that only really covered the top of his shoulders, even with his wings folded and pressed into his back. 

“Good job I brought more towels, anyway.” Nero grabbed the second towel from the heated rack and wrapped it around Credo’s waist, and it sort of did the trick - and not to mention that at some point, Credo’s dick had slid back inside wherever the fuck it came from, leaving nice, neat scales behind it. 

“There, better than nothing. Come on, let’s get back to the bedroom where we’ve got more room.”

“Bedroom,” Credo agreed, and he held onto both towels as they hobbled out of the bathroom together. “Wet, chilly,” he said with another rueful smile as Nero closed the bedroom door behind them.

“Yeah I know,  _ impatient _ . Give me a minute.” Nero prodded Credo gently in the meat of his shoulder. “The heating’s on already so you should warm up soon enough. Come on, let’s get you dried off anyway.” 

He rubbed the towels gently against Credo’s feathers, ruffling them up to get all the water out of them before moving onto the next section and eventually, he was completely dry and, frankly, looking kinda like a peacock or something. “What, do we need to give you some hair gel for feathers or something?” Nero smirked at the image. “I don’t think they sell that, somehow.”

Credo sat down on the bed and turned his attention to the feathers on his forearm, preening them section by section with his claws and palm until they lay flat under his ministrations. 

Nero came and knelt on the bed behind him, gently tugging on his wings. “Let me do these for you?” he asked, quietly. In all honesty, he’d been wanting to get his hands on Credo’s wings ever since he’d first seen them.

Credo tilted his head back and spread his wings carefully, laying them flat on the bed, ready and waiting for Nero’s touch.

Nero swallowed hard. He ran both hands down the main bone, sinking his fingers into the feathers there and rubbing them gently but firmly until the feathers lay flat and neat once again. Credo moaned, his eyes fluttering closed, and Nero felt him lean back, pressing up against his chest until they were basically hugging. 

“Hey now,” Nero murmured, wrapping both arms around Credo’s tightly-muscled waist. “How am I meant to preen you when you’re doing this?” He buried his nose into Credo’s shoulder feathers, inhaling deeply of his clean, delicious scent. “ _ God _ , you smell fucking good,” he said into Credo’s feathers. 

“That feels good,” Credo replied, voice husky. “More?” 

“More? Hmm,” Nero smiled against Credo, then ran his hands down the side of his ribs, teasing his feathers into neatness with a firm touch. “Or do you want more wings, hm?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Credo said with a groan which Nero felt reverberate through his own chest. “More wings, Nero.”

Hearing his voice in that tone set Nero’s skin to tingling, and he swallowed hard again. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be getting a hard-on and then how the fuck would he go about explaining  _ that _ ? Well… maybe he just had to deal with that when it came to it. And it wasn’t a case of  _ if _ , either. 

Nero sank his fingers into the deep feathers near Credo’s shoulder blades, where they merged into his body, carding them and combing them until they sat neat and soft and so, so beautiful to touch. He wanted to push his face into them, to breathe deeply of his clean, warm scent, to sleep nestled into them like a baby bird or some bullshit. 

He rubbed his fingers deep and hard against Credo’s wings, smoothing feathers as he went, setting everything back into order, and the whole time, he was just so fucking painfully aware of how Credo leaned into every touch; how he was dragging little noises out of him that were so, so fucking hot; how he himself was getting more and more turned on by the whole situation until he was groaning with need, hips jerking unconsciously against the cloth of his pyjamas for some contact,  _ any _ fucking contact.

With a jolt to his spine, Nero realised as Credo leaned back further that once again his dick had slid out of its sheath, laying against his belly and looking so inviting and delicious that he could hardly stand it. 

“Nero,” Credo murmured, looking back over his shoulder at him, meeting his gaze with hooded eyes.

Those were the same eyes Nero remembered, from his dreams and from his memories, and yeah, fuck, that was actually Credo laying against him, moaning at his touch, and… totally unable to talk properly and fucked up from fuck knew how many years in Hell. Goddamn, what was he  _ doing _ ? 

Nero gently extricated himself from behind Credo and got off the bed, shifting from foot to foot, face blazing red. “Credo, we can’t do this,” he said, hating every fucking word as it came out of his stupid fucking mouth. “You’re not you, I’d just be taking advantage.”

Credo cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, his dick sliding back neatly away as though it was never there. “No,” he said with a low growl. “Not taking…” he paused, “advantage.  _ No _ .”

Nero shook his head, hard and fast. “We just  _ can’t _ , Credo, It’s not fucking fair!” He felt his wings unfurl behind him, their knuckles flexing in the air, and he took a breath. “It’s not fair, Credo.  _ Please _ .” And this last was small and tired and so fucking desperate. Credo’d already come back from the fucking dead, what more could Nero even ask for? He couldn’t ask for more than that. They’d never had any more, and they never fucking would.

He turned on his heel and ran from the room, before his treacherous heart made him stay. Before he looked into Credo’s eyes and fell harder than he already had, all those years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY FOR THE ENDING U GUYS. DON'T WORRY, TRUST MEEEEEE.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An accord is reached, and Credo becomes what he once used to be

Credo watched as Nero whirled out of the room, and he felt something clench deep inside his body - pain, anguish, sadness, he didn’t know what it was, but it  _ hurt _ . His fists bunched subconsciously, claws softening into nails, and he stood up from the bed and set off almost at a run to follow Nero, forgetting for a moment that his thigh was still injured, and accelerated demonic healing or not, he could hardly go charging out of a room just yet.

He had to use the wardrobe to lean against until he managed to make his way out of the bedroom and into the corridor, where his sharp ears picked up Nero’s shaky breathing. 

Step by step, Credo made it to the bathroom door, pain lancing through his leg every time he moved, and not to mention the dull, thumping ache in his hip from the way he was having to hold his body to be able to actually balance.

He leaned against the closed door, listening to Nero inside, and felt his stomach clench once more. “Nero,” he murmured, pressing his head against the door, miraculously without hitting the doorframe above him - huh, strange. Something fell into his peripheral vision, dark brown and familiar. He lifted his hands and felt for the door handle, just as Nero opened it, and then Credo caught sight of himself in the mirror above the sink and gasped.

“Nero,” he murmured, reaching up to touch his own unfeathered, unscaled face, between all the overgrown hair. “H-how?”

“Holy fuck Credo?” Nero pulled him inside the bathroom and closed the door behind them, all their discussion apparently forgotten. He sat Credo down on the toilet seat again, hands gripping his bony,  _ human  _ shoulders for dear life. 

“Turned back,” Credo replied, somewhat stating the obvious.

“Yeah I can see that! How?”

“D-don’t know.” Credo couldn’t stop touching his skin, then realised all of a sudden that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. His face went hot and he looked down at the floor, fixing his gaze on the tiles between his bare feet. His human feet…

“Shit Credo, this is huge.” Nero sat on the edge of the bath and reached out, taking one of Credo’s hands in his own. “And you can talk again?”

“Not... sure.” Credo tasted the words as they came out of his mouth, felt the way they shaped his throat and how his voice felt in his chest. “Maybe?”

“That’s fucking amazing, holy shit.” Nero scrubbed a hand through his hair, and then his own gaze dropped too, and his shoulders slumped. “Uh, about before. I gotta apologise, that was really fucking weird of me wasn’t it? It’s not like I meant to start touching you up, I was just trying to help, not be a fucking creep. So uh, yeah, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t make things weird?” He managed to look up at Credo, worry writ large across his face.

Credo smiled, slow and calm, and felt peace wash over him. Peace and a deep, abiding love for Nero, who tried so hard in everything he ever did. Nero who he’d seen grow up and now had the miraculous luck to see as an adult in his own right. “Nero,” he said softly, reached out to touch his face with a clawless hand, “it’s okay. It’s all okay. No need to sorry.” He crinkled his nose in annoyance as yet another phrasing and set of words escaped him, but he figured that Nero was used to it by now. “Did nothing wrong,” he said, firmer this time. “All okay, yes?”

Nero nodded, fighting back a lump in his throat. “Alright,” he said, and cleared his throat with a little cough. “Okay, that’s good. Yeah.” He smiled like sunshine breaking through a cloudbank and leaned into Credo’s palm against his cheek. 

Credo brushed his fingers into the short hair at Nero’s temples and sideburns, rubbing against Nero’s scalp. “Hair looks good,” he murmured, “suits you.”

“Pff, not like yours!” Nero went pink, but he reached up and ruffled Credo’s overgrown mop of hair, ran his fingers down and brushed against his beard, which had grown from a sharp goatee to more of a full-chin affair which almost seemed like it was trying to engulf his entire face - that, along with the hair, made him look like a wild man from the forests.

“Need to shave,” Credo agreed with a rueful smile. “Feel like a demon, even like this.” He tugged at the hair straggling from his head, far longer than shoulder-length now, even though it hadn’t translated through into his demon form. Even after getting washed with Nero, it still felt greasy and lank, as though it hadn’t seen water for years. Which… Credo supposed that it hadn’t, had it? It wasn’t as though there were showers in the underworld, or any time to wash oneself, even if you could find clean running water.

“Do you want me to leave you alone to shave? I mean, I don’t wanna intrude and stuff…” Nero trailed off and moved his face away from Credo’s hand, even if he did look reluctant about it. 

If Credo was honest with himself, he could have sat with  Nero for days, just touching him, rubbing their noses together, foreheads pressed against one another, or curled around him as they slept. But since he was back to being a human again, he had to really get rid of those thoughts, didn’t he? It wasn’t appropriate, after all their history together. “Should shave,” he managed to say quietly. “Alone, yes.”

Nero bit his bottom lip, but he nodded his head and stood up sharply. “Okay, I’ll just be in the bedroom. Uh, lemme go get you some stuff and some clothes, yeah? I think mine’ll fit you now…” And then he was gone, without giving Credo chance to say anything.

Credo stood up and leaned his hands on the sink unit, holding his weight as much off his injured leg as he could as he stared at himself in the big mirror. His eyes were a mess - sunken and dark, as though he hadn’t slept in weeks - and his hair and beard were even worse. He would cut his hair, shave the beard down as much as he could bear, see how much of a human corpse he resembled underneath all of that, and then try the whole human interaction thing again. Maybe he could stop upsetting Nero while he was at it…

He clenched his fingers against the unit top until his knuckles whitened. Had things always been so complicated between them? Or had he just never seen it, when he was alive? That seemed more like the answer, if he was being even more brutally honest. He’d been blind to so much, back then. Was that why this felt like a second chance? And if it truly was a second chance, could he use it to examine himself, to maybe come to terms with some things he’d been hiding from? He didn’t know, but something about this whole situation felt magical, and he was determined to not let it slip from his fingers.

Nero came back with a pair of scissors and an electric set of hair clippers, as well as a canister of shaving cream. “The can in the cupboard is almost empty, so I got you this as well.” He held up the shaving cream and then set it down next to the sink, along with the hair clippers. “I think cos your hair is so long, you’d better just, you know.” He snipped the air a few times with the scissors, grinning into the mirror at Credo. “I dunno what you wanna do, do you need some help, or?”

Credo shook his head and smiled softly. “No, it’s okay,” he said and took the pair of scissors from Nero. “The clippers? Do they need…” he waved his other hand around with a frustrated noise. 

“Power? Yeah, I plugged them in outside, don’t worry.” Nero clapped Credo on the shoulder and winced as he collided with the extreme boniness of them. “You know how to use them?”

Credo nodded. “Will be fine,” he said, running a hand down the length of his hair. “Thank you.” 

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it, big guy. Lemme know if you wanna shower after and I’ll help you, okay?”

“Will do,” Credo replied, then turned his attention to the mirror with furrowed brows, barely even noticing Nero’s lingering look as he closed the bathroom door behind him. 

Credo took hold of his hair, gathering it into a thick tail which he pulled over his shoulder to see the length of it in the mirror. He could barely remember what he’d looked like before he died, let alone how he’d preferred to wear his hair and beard, but he’d seen a few photographs of himself, Nero and Kyrie around the house, and he could hold that image in his mind’s eye to consider how he wanted to look now. Hell, it was difficult enough to contemplate that he even had a choice in the matter, that he could cut and style his hair however he wanted, that he could even cut it all off like Nero had done if he wanted to.

But something about the image of himself with so little hair felt off, so Credo took up the scissors and cut through the hefty tail until his hair fell away chunk by chunk. He cut it down to a little shorter than chin length, not as long as in the photographs he’d seen, but nowhere near as short as Nero’s hair, his only other frame of reference. 

He eyed himself in the mirror and felt immediately five times more human. Just the beard left to deal with, and yes, he would definitely be needing the clippers for that. Credo turned them of and almost jumped out of his skin as they began to vibrate in his hand. Not something he’d experienced in a long time, and as he looked at the clippers, some faded memories of other vibrating items came back to him and he blushed hard.

Shaking his head to dispel those thoughts - although perhaps they’d be good for unpacking later - Credo set to the task of de-bearding himself, starting with the ridiculous sideburns and working his way down until it was all at a more manageable length for the razor which was hooked on a little holder under the mirror. 

He applied shaving cream liberally, and systematically worked across his cheeks, jawbone and underneath his chin and neck, stopping when he got to his actual chin. The photos had shown him with a pointed goatee and even his demonic form had something of that around his face. Somehow, the thought of shaving that off entirely made Credo pause. He had trimmed the hair down a fair bit already, but there was still enough left to leave him with a much shorter goatee. 

With a small smile he neatened up the edges around the goatee and made sure that he hadn’t missed any areas, then he washed his face thoroughly in some hot water, rinsing away the final evidence of his life in the underworld. The heated towel rack was switched on, and the little hand towel he plucked from it was so warm and comforting that Credo could almost cry.

He inhaled the scent of it, memories tickling the back of his mind, and then squared his shoulders. Time to face it, then. He draped the towel back over the rack and cleaned up after himself before leaving the bathroom with halting, careful steps. It was only a short distance to Nero’s bedroom, thankfully, and Credo managed to get there without falling, using the wall to give himself a little more balance than he could manage alone.

Credo knocked on the door softly. “Nero? Finished now.”

“Oh, you didn’t need help showering?” Nero’s voice was muffled until he opened the door. “I was gonna- holy shit.” He stopped, mouth dropping open. “Fuck Credo, you look-  _ fuck _ .”

“That’s good?” Credo leaned against the doorframe, a wash of tiredness flowing through him all of a sudden.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You look amazing.” Nero took Credo’s arm and helped him into the bedroom. “Seriously, I’m not exaggerating here.” 

Credo sat down in the middle of the big bed and stretched out his leg, wincing at the sting as the tape covering his stitches tugged on his skin and the wound both. He reached up a hand and touched his cheek, marvelling at the smoothness of it, the lack of scales and feathers. 

Nero sat cross-legged, facing him, and brought his own hand up to cup Credo’s cheek, folding his fingers between Credo’s with a soft smile. “I bet it’s hard to get used to, right? Seeing yourself like this?”

“Yes,” Credo nodded. He found his eyes drawn to Nero’s, unable to keep his gaze away from him for long. “Like the hair?”

“Yeah, I really like it! It’s shorter, but it suits you. Guess you didn’t wanna shave all of it off like me, huh?” Nero laughed. “I bet you’re still not used to seeing mine like this. It was kinda weird for me too, for a bit. Kept thinking it wasn’t me in the mirror.” The more Nero talked, the more he forgot that he was just casually touching Credo’s cheek, holding his face and hand, leaning in ever closer to him. Fuck, but he smelled good.

“Strange, a little,” Credo agreed. “But it’s good. Suits you too.” He turned sideways, slightly awkwardly, until he faced Nero enough that he could lean his forehead against Nero’s own. “Both changed,” he said with a little sigh of contentment. “But good change.”

Nero smiled like a sunbeam. “A really fucking good change.” He closed his eyes and revelled in their closeness, forcing any thoughts of wrongness out of his head. “I’m not sorry for before,” he breathed, “for touching you. I thought I was, but… I wanted to. Touch you, I mean. And you liked it too, didn’t you? Even though you were in that form, it’s not like you were an animal or anything.”

Credo shook his head. “No, not animal. Not demon either.” He opened his eyes and watched Nero’s face, gaze flicking from his closed eyes to his lips, unable to stop staring at them, at the way Nero licked them, absent and lingering. With a little groan in the hollow of his throat, Credo leaned in and pressed the gentlest of kisses to the corner of Nero’s mouth. “Want you,” he murmured, and cradled Nero’s face in both of his hands. “You too?”

“Oh,  _ fuck yes _ ,” Nero growled, eyes narrowed with lust as he leaned forward and took Credo’s mouth in a desperate, thirsty kiss.

Credo slid his fingers into Nero’s hair and they stayed like that for a long, beautiful moment, just breathing into each other, Nero’s hands roaming across Credo’s body and then back to his shorter hair, both of them basically holding each other in place.

They broke apart, breathing heavily, Credo’s eyes lidded with lust that’d crept up on him swifter than he’d ever experienced - that he could remember anyway. He could feel blood rushing to areas of his body that hadn’t seen any use in a long time, and it made him shift on the bed, slightly uncomfortable. “Tingles,” he murmured, eyes flicking back to Nero’s lips, how wet and red they were, how much he wanted to be kissing them again.

“Yeah that’s called getting horny as fuck,” Nero said with a heated chuckle. “Same here, to be honest. But uh, don’t you think we should take it a little slower? I mean, as much as I want you to fuck me right here on this bed, like  _ right fucking now _ , I mean… you’re still injured.” He rested his hand lightly on Credo’s thigh, concern writ plain on his face. “And you’re all skin and bones, you know.”

Credo growled deep in his throat, but he could hardly disagree. “Hmm,” he said, eyes still focused on Nero’s lips, and then tracking down to the obvious tenting in his pants. “Want this,” he breathed, “want this  _ now _ .” 

“ _ Fuck _ , Credo, how am I meant to say no to that? I mean come on!” Nero laughed again and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Credo’s once more. “I’m not gonna hurt you though, not again. I’ve already done enough of that, remember?” And he pressed a little harder on Credo’s thigh, causing him to grunt in shock and pain.

“Hurts!” Credo glared at Nero, feeling his body react even further to the pain, mixed with the urgency of his need to mate. And… oh, there it was. To mate. Like he was some demon all over again, driven by lust and lust alone; desperate to mate and consequences be damned.

Credo took a deep breath, and forcibly settled himself. “Alright,” he whispered. “Alright. Not now.” He looked into Nero’s eyes though, brows creasing with intensity. “But  _ soon _ .”

“Damn fucking right, soon.” Nero wrapped both of his arms around Credo and held him close, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Feels like we both might implode if it’s not soon, huh?”

“Think so,” Credo agreed with a smile. He leaned into Nero’s hug, enjoying the simple warmth of human closeness, of someone’s skin pressed against his own in a non-violent fashion. He could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I told you it'd all be alright. <3 Drama to come yet, but here's a little calm before the storm to whet your appetites!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a call comes in about a demon sighting in Mitis. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I'm so sorry for the delay on this, you guys! I honestly arm-wrestled this fucker to the death and if I don't post it now I never well. I hope you guys enjoy!

It hadn’t taken them long to get back into the swing of daily life together. Kyrie was overjoyed that Credo was back, unsurprisingly, and Nico seemed to have taken a liking to him too, which had surprised Nero in the first instance, considering how he used to work with Agnus and all. But then he’d overheard Credo haltingly telling Nico about one of the arguments he used to get into with Agnus and it all fell into place. 

At breakfast, Credo peered at Nero from over the top of one of the latest books in his seemingly never-ending supply of them. The little library in Fortuna must have been thrilled every time he walked in. “There’s pastries,” he said, pointing at the big plate in the middle of the table.

“Oh, you fucking  _ legend _ .” Nero plopped down next to Credo and snagged three of the sticky pastries. One of them was circular with a large pool of apricot jam in the middle and drizzled with white icing, and the other two were chocolate-sprinkled croissants which Nero knew very well contained the most amazing nutty, gooey chocolate stuff in the middle. “Have we had any calls yet?” he said, around a chocolatey, flaky mouthful. 

“Just the one,” Credo replied, adding a bookmark to his book and setting it down on the table. He topped up his coffee from the big pot and picked up the mug, cradling it between both hands. It had a picture of a cream and purple bird on the side, with the words ‘Best Uncle’ painted on in glittery gold porcelain paint. The kids’d made it for him on some pottery day trip, and Credo’d nearly cried when they handed it to him solemnly, wrapped in purple tissue paper.  

“A demon sighting,” he continued, inhaling the fragrant aroma of the coffee, “in Mitis.”

“Mitis? Again? Jeez, that fucking forest. I swear I spend more time out there than at home sometimes.” Nero took another huge bite of his croissant and scowled as he chewed. “Did they say what demon it was? Do we both need to go?”

“Mm,” Credo said around a sip of coffee. “Two person job. It’s, I believe the description given was, ‘absolutely massive’.”

“Hah, yeah okay definitely a two person job then. Ah well, it’ll be nice for you to get some practise in the field.”

Credo raised an eyebrow. “As though my practise with you wasn’t enough, you mean?”

“Piss off Credo, you know what I mean. It’s different out there, you know that of all people. Demons’re unpredictable.”

“Unpredictable, mm.” Credo sipped on his coffee and tapped one finger on the side of the mug. “Yes, remember that.” Sometimes he still slipped and forgot to use his pronouns - it seemed that habits died hard, when you had years and years of not using your words. Not much of a sense of self, as a demon in the underworld. Not really that much time for it, what with all the killing to stay alive and all. “Should be okay.” He nodded confidently and finished off his coffee. 

“Eager to get going, huh? Guess it must suck being cooped up in here all the time. Wanna stretch your legs?”

“Not cooped up, just bored.” Credo took his mug to the sink and washed it out, setting it upside down to dry on the side. “Been out in the town, spoken to people, shopping,” he waved a hand vaguely. “ _ Boring _ .”

“That’s cos you’ve not been with me, clearly.” Nero devoured the rest of his breakfast in record speed and poured himself a bit of coffee, downing it straight without any sugar or milk. He dumped his plate and mug in the sink for later and then bumped shoulders with Credo, who was leaning against the worktop. “Guess I have been a bit busy lately, huh? Sorry ‘bout that, big guy.”

“Can you call me that now? Considering you’re about as tall as me?” Credo looked down at Nero, a faint smile on his face. “We’d better get going. Don’t want anyone to get hurt while we sit around here.”

“Hey, who’s sitting around? Not me!” Nero elbowed Credo and then set off at a run to the garage. “Bring your sword! You’re gonna need it!”

Credo watched him go, still smiling. Sometimes, even though he’d only been back a few weeks, it felt like being back at home when they were a hell of a lot younger, only somehow three times as chaotic. The kids had welcomed him with open arms and, frankly, so many questions he thought he’d run out of things to tell them. ‘What was Papa like when he was little?’, ‘did you look after Papa and Mama all on your own?’, ‘where did your pretty wings go?’, ‘did you come back like an angel?’ and, his personal favourite, ‘can we call you Uncle Credo, Uncle Credo?’. He’d spent most evenings working his way haltingly through books at bedtime with them, relearning words and how they fitted together into proper sentences, as well as spending time with the three boys who were, frankly, one of the best things to happen to him since he came back from the underworld.

The thought of a ‘massive demon’ ruining all that made Credo’s stomach curdle, and even though he was nervous at the idea of being in the field again, the idea of leaving all the work to Nero was laughable. And besides, his thigh was pretty much healed up now, thanks to a combo of many, many orbs full of green, disgusting medicine, and what would seem to be an accelerated healing speed thanks to his demonic side. Although it hadn’t made an appearance since he somehow managed to turn back, was still clearly very much a part of him, and if he was being honest with himself, he was thankful for that. 

With a soft sigh at Nero’s discarded crockery, Credo set off after him to the garage. Their weapons were stored in there when they weren’t being used, with the exception of Blue Rose of course, which Nero liked to keep at his side. 

Credo locked the front door and then the kitchen door, which led to the garage, and headed over to the back wall where their weapons were hung. “Still don’t wash up after yourself, I see,” he said with a wry smile at Nero. 

Nero snorted. “Not when we’ve got a demon to fuck up, no. You good to go?”

“Should be.” Credo ran his fingers over the white-and-gold sword which hung between two pegs, unable to believe how similar it looked to the one in his memories.

“She’s good, isn’t she? Don’t tell her I said that, though. I’ll never hear the end of it.” He swung Red Queen down from the wall and gave her a few swipes, then sheathed her across his back.

“Nico made this? When did she have time?” Credo wrapped his hand around the hilt and took it from the pegs, hefting the blade and feeling the balance of it, testing it against his own, slowly-returning strength. It was perfectly weighted, and the trigger rested invitingly against his knuckles, just waiting for him to pull it for some extra kick to his attacks.

“I don’t fucking know man, she just turns up in the mornings sometimes with new shit for us all to try out. I guess she’s an insomniac or something, who even knows.”

“I’ll have to thank her,” Credo said, giving the sword some experimental swings. “It’s  _ perfect _ .”

Nero grinned widely. “She’ll be happy that you like it. You can tell her later when we get back. She’s out at the workshop today.” He bumped Credo’s shoulder with his own, letting the contact linger slightly longer than he maybe should’ve. “It looks good with you. Like before, but better.”

“Should hope so, better,” Credo replied, flushing a little. He leaned into Nero’s weight and they stood there for a moment, revelling in each others’ warmth before Nero jumped back into action as though he’d never stopped. 

“Better get going anyway, stow the sword in the back until we get you a nice sheath or something.”

Credo shook his head sharply to dispel the inappropriate feelings and opened the back door of the van, hanging the sword on one of the sets of pegs newly-attached to the back of the door. They might have been sleeping in the same bed, and have kissed the once, but nothing had happened save for Nero seeming to be incredibly entertained by flustering him at every possible opportunity. 

Well, two could play at that game, Credo thought as he closed the van doors up. It was easy enough to say ‘soon’ when you were deep in the moment, apparently, but not as easy to overcome however many years of feeling one specific way towards one specific person and knowing that you couldn’t ever act on it. 

He hopped up into the passenger seat next to Nero and shot a smile in his direction. He patted Nero’s thigh casually, a hell of a lot more casually than he felt inside. “Alright, let’s go. At least it’s not far to Mitis.”

\- - -

When they arrived, the forest was quiet. Too quiet, in fact. Nero and Credo grabbed their weapons from the back of the van and then leaned against the front, looking out into the forest.

“Suspicious,” Credo murmured, getting a good, tight grip on his sword. He’d been practising with a wooden sword while he healed up, and it felt so good to be back in action once more, to have the proper weight of his sword back in his hand. 

“Yeah, you’re fucking telling me.” Nero balanced Blue Rose in his hand and then leaned it against his shoulder. “How’s your tracking skills? You used to be pretty good, right?”

“Hmm.” Credo looked around, taking careful note of disturbed leaves and scratch marks in the soil and trees at the forest edge. He sniffed the air delicately, and then smiled a thin, satisfied smile. “I can scent it. I wonder…” He scratched the back of his neck, frowning as a memory came flooding back. “Think it came through with me,” he said, finally. “When I came through, from the Underworld.”

“Huh, well I mean that actually makes sense.” Nero turned to Credo and patted him on the shoulder heartily, holding his grip for a moment longer before letting him go. “At least there’s no new breaches anywhere else. Just gotta find this fucker and kill it. Easy.” He gestured towards the forest with a little bow. “Lead the way then, big guy.”

Credo shook the memory from his head and set off, moving quietly through the forest at a slight crouch. His feet rolled with the ground, softening any sounds that might have given them away, and all of a sudden he was thrown back into a bone-deep memory of hunting in the underworld,  _ tasting the scent of prey, knowing that he would succeed, that he would soon have it between his claws and he would be free to rend and tear and feast for the first time in a week, oh he almost had it, he was almost there, and then- _

“Credo? You okay?” Nero gripped Credo’s shoulder, pulling him up short from where he’d almost gone onto all fours. “Don’t lose it, not now.” Nero tugged Credo into a one-armed hug, holding him close. “I’m here,  _ you’re  _ here, remember what we’re here to do, yeah?”

“Yes, remember,” Credo murmured, pressing his nose into Nero’s hair and inhaling deeply of his scent. Pure and clean and electric, not blood and gore and the taste of flesh between his teeth. “I’m here.” He took a deep, steadying breath and then pulled away, standing straight with his shoulders back. “ _ Can do this _ .”

“Yeah, I know you can, you’re all good.” Nero clapped him on the shoulder and then sighed too, relief writ clear on his face. “Thought I’d lost you for a sec there, don’t fucking worry me like that.”

“I’ll try not to,” Credo said carefully, throwing Nero a wry smile. “Memories, they just…” he waved a hand vaguely. “You know.”

“Yeah, I know.” 

Credo sniffed the air again, careful to centre himself first, then pointed West. “That way,” he said, “through the clearing. It’s been… feeding. Lots of blood.”

“Shit, I hope we’re not too late! Come on!” Nero set off at a sprint, managing to be fairly quiet somehow, and Credo followed. They ran through the clearing and past a cluster of bark-stripped trees and almost careened directly into the hulking mass of demon which was taking up more space than should’ve been possible, hunched over what seemed to be the corpse of a stag, face deep in the guts of it.

Nero and Credo pulled up short and it jerked its head up from the corpse, turning round sharply to eye them with narrowed eyes. The demon itself was unlike anything Nero’d seen before - at least, not in the human world. Maybe something like that was common in the underworld, but he hadn’t been down there enough to know.

It was squat and dark, crouched over the stag on four legs, with a further two holding the corpse as it fed, and the back of it was almost entirely comprised of gigantic leaves, atop which sat plump, bright pink petals, gleaming invitingly. Under the plant, a long, spined tail thrashed, thick at the base, and with enough heft that one hit would be pretty damn painful. Its teeth dripped with blood and gore, and it bared them, dropping the deer and flexing its bloodied claws, ready to defend itself.

Nero unsheathed Red Queen and gestured at the demon. “What the fuck are you meant to be? You’re like some sort of overblown Venus flytrap or something.”

“Nero, don’t antagonise it,” Credo hissed, getting a better grip on his sword. As one, they both revved the blades and the scent of light smoke filled the air around them. “No need for talking, just attack.”

Nero laughed, and then dashed in before Credo could say anything else, leaping high into the air and bringing his sword down right in the centre of one of those fragile-looking petals. Red Queen sliced through the petal like butter, splitting it in two before the tip plunged dead-centre into the middle of the demon’s plant parts. It stuck there for a second or two before Nero managed to rip it back out in a great arc, sending a spray of ichor and dust in its wake.

The demon screamed and sent another puff of dust into the air, aiming it towards Nero and Credo, it’s tail thrashing wildly in all directions.

Somehow, Nero managed to cover his mouth and nose with the inside of his arm, and he gestured at Credo with Red Queen. “Don’t come any closer,” he shouted through his arm, “this dust shit, I don’t think it’s gonna be great if we breathe it all in.”

Credo slid into a fighting crouch and revved his sword again, careful to limit his inhales until the dust dissipated into the air. The second it had settled, he dived for the demon, sharing a significant glance with Nero. The communication between them was fast as lightning, but there was no need for words.

With his sword held high, point downwards, Credo leapt into the air and plunged it into the demon’s thorax, at the same time as Nero slid in from below and stabbed upwards. Together, their swords speared the demon through, and from his position on the ground, Nero raised Blue Rose and fired directly through the thing’s throat, severing its neck neatly from the rest of its body.

There was a stunted howl and a last, futile puff of spores and the demon collapsed, right on top of Nero. He yelled, the sound cutting off with a strange squeak. 

Without warning, the spined base of its tail detached, and Credo realised at the same time that it wasn’t actually part of the main demon section that they’d been focusing on. Vines slid out of the demon torso with wet pops, until the flower stood above them, the spiny - no,  _ thorny _ \- tail pressing down into Nero’s neck as it raised itself higher and higher.

Credo swallowed hard, his hands sweating as he tried to shift his sword grip. He looked up at the demon as it chittered, a little puff of that pollen spraying upwards from it and all over the place where Nero’d stabbed it earlier. As he watched, the gash sealed itself up with as little effort as it’d taken for it to rise up from its host.

Shit. He looked down at Nero and a fist of ice took hold of his heart as he saw a trickle of blood wind its way down his chin; his eyes roll back into his skull; head lolling loose against the soil. 

A roar built up in Credo’s chest and exploded from his throat as feathers and scales and wings and claws grew from him like armour. He went into a crouch, now-too-big hand gripping his sword and revving it; narrowed his eyes at the demon and bared his teeth.

The vines stretched higher as the demon made itself larger, fanning out its petals and leaves and finally, blessedly, lifting its tail from Nero’s throat to thras behind it. It chittered and lashed lashed out with one vine, aiming low. 

Credo leapt into the air, feeling the wind as he spread his wings and caught an updraft - rising above the plant demon with a snarl and he dove down, sword held out before him like a lance.

The demon’s vines lashed at him, forcing him to dip sharply, but Credo managed to whip the edge of his sword around and slice a quarter of a vine off as he righted himself in the air once more. The vine flopped to the ground and the demon screamed, shooting all its remaining vines outwards in a solid, furious mass, straight into the centre of Credo’s chest. sending him back through the air with a growl of pain. He flapped his wings and managed to slow his tumble.

Credo realised that he was backed up against the trunk of a thick tree, and he tucked both feet back against it, feeling the strength of the tree with his claws. He narrowed his eyes at the demon as it came towards him again, vines pulling it across the leaf-littered ground like splayed, freakish legs, though the vine he’d cut down made it a little lop-sided. 

He pushed himself away from the tree with one big effort, arrowing directly for the wonky side. Vines came up to meet him, but he shrugged them off, slicing through them like so much chaff. The extra push from the tree gave him enough momentum to get to the heart of the thing, and he latched on with his feet, digging those huge, vicious claws into the meat of the plant, right where the pollen had puffed from earlier. He opened his mouth and roared out all his anger and worry, screaming down into the demon as his sword arm came up and plunged down and down and down, until when Credo finally realised what he was doing, the stamen parts were in tattered shreds and the demon had gone floppy in his claws, green blood congealing upon contact with the air.

Credo dropped the demon in disgust and landed. He clenched his feet and claws a few times in the dirt to clear them of viscera, and then dashed over to where Nero still lay, blood smeared across his chin, and a series of welts around his throat like a necklace of gore-soaked rubies. 

His knees scraped great ruts in the dirt as he came skidding to a halt, great claws gentling as he cradled Nero’s head. “Come on now,” Credo murmured, running the back of one claw down Nero’s cheek. “A little thing like that can’t kill you, come on Nero.”

Nero’s eyes flickered, and he coughed, his now-human hand going to his throat to feel out the damage. “Fuck,” he choked out, “what the  _ fuck _ happened? I feel like I’ve deepthroated a cactus.”

Credo snorted out a great laugh, interspersed with sobs as his heart began to settle down, and then he realised that he was knelt in the dirt and leaves and blood, his thick, white-feathered thighs bloodied and covered in bits of vine and stamen.

“Hey, you’re a demon again,” Nero croaked. He reached up and ran his fingers through the fluff at Credo’s crown, hanging limply over his nose and soaked through with sweat as it was. “You’re so fucking hot like this, you know?”

Credo felt his skin darken, even though he wasn’t sure he could even blush at all in this form. “Didn’t realise I could change again,” he said, quietly. “Thought I’d lost it…”

“Guess you were just that worried about me, huh?” Nero sat up and leaned against Credo’s chest, running his fingers idly over the purple-chased plates and stopping just as he hit the base of his feathers. 

“You’re teasing me,” Credo murmured. He closed his eyes and tried to keep his trembling under control as Nero’s fingers explored his demonic body. Every time he got to the feathers, he’d push his fingers just into them and then brush away again, teasing and teasing until Credo could barely catch his breath.

“Yeah, I am.” Nero’s voice was low and husky, not only from the wound, his eyes narrowed with lust. 

“You- you’re injured!” Credo gasped as Nero’s questing fingers went lower. “Should be- ah! - resting!” The plates at his groin moved aside obligingly and his dick slid out into Nero’s waiting hand.

Nero licked his lips and bent forward, and then- “oh fuck,” he gasped. The movement of his neck tore the slowly-healing wounds and a fresh gout of blood dribbled down his chest.

Credo’s eyes widened and he steadied Nero with both hands, careful to keep his claws away from tender human flesh. “No time,” he hissed, “you’re bleeding, it’s bad!”

“Fine,” Nero coughed again, spilling blood down his chin. “You win.”

“Hospital,” Credo said firmly. He picked Nero up with both arms and cradled him against his chest, then spread his wings and leapt into the air with as little movement as possible, so as not to jolt Nero any more than he had to. 

The problem of whether he could change back into his human form hadn’t even entered into his head. Every part of his being was focused on getting Nero to a hospital, and fast, and Credo knew that he just didn’t have that speed when he was human.

“Nearly there,” he said under his breath. “Nearly there, just hold on.”

\- - -

As it happened, the hospital was more than familiar with the sight of demonic forms, and they were even familiar with Nero himself. Probably from when he’d spent time there after his own father ripped out his devil arm - that kind of thing generally made for a memorable patient. 

Credo dozed in a chair next to Nero’s tall bed, his inner elbow strapped up with gauze and surgical tape. A few pints of his blood stood on the other side of Nero’s bed, slowly feeding into his veins to replace what he’d lost from the demon, and a series of neat, straight stitches went across Nero’s neck, though the marks were beginning to fade - no doubt a sign of his demonic nature’s influence on the healing process. 

Nero’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled down at Credo, reaching out with his un-IVed hand to ruffle his hair. “You changed back?” he croaked, as Credo woke and blinked up at him. “Guess you can do both now, huh?”

“I suppose I can,” Credo replied, looking down wonderingly at himself. He even seemed to have his own clothes on; warm, soft hoodie and some jogging pants he usually trained in. He reached up and took Nero’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

“Hey, it takes more than a plant-demon tail to the neck to kill me, you know.” Nero nodded at the IV and blood bag. “Looks like I got something of yours in the deal, too. Not many other demon-blooded people around, huh?”

“No, not really.” Credo stood up from the high-backed chair and stretched, feeling the exertion of yesterday deep in his muscles. He turned and perched on Nero’s bed sideways and cupped Nero’s face with both hands. “Should have done a lot more of this,” he murmured, and then leaned in to kiss him; gentle and slow, he sighed into it, parting his lips for Nero’s tongue.

They broke apart, breathing hard, with a little cough from Nero’s side. “ _ Shit _ , Credo,” he breathed. “Yeah you fucking  _ should _ . Maybe I need to get seriously injured more often.” Nero’s eyes danced with mischief. “I wonder what you’d do if I lost an arm again or something.”

Credo gasped and swatted him on the arm, but gently. “No jokes! You could have  _ died _ !”

“But I didn’t. Too badass to die, and you’re too badass to  _ let me _ , right?”

“Hmm.” Credo leaned in and kissed Nero again, lips curled in a satisfied smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda the end, but not really the end! There will be an epilogue, DON'T WORRY.
> 
> ...I can't believe I wrote like, 20k words without a single porn scene. I WILL BE FIXING THAT.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home from hospital, Nero and Credo finally have some time to spend together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience! You've honestly been a delight <3

“I can’t believe we’ve  _ both  _ had some bullshit near-death experiences lately,” Nero said between bites of shitty, plain cheese hospital sandwich. “Thank fuck I’m outta here today, that’s all I can say.” He waved the sandwich at Credo with a grimace. 

“Yes well, you still have to take care of yourself, hospital or not.”

Nero finished the sandwich with one more bite, and then swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Yeah yeah, I know I know. No more flinging myself under demons, I got it.” He reached down and grabbed Credo’s hand, tugged him up and made for the door without a backwards glance.

“We’re gonna get outta here, get home, and then you’re gonna fuck me into that goddamn bed already before I die of blue balls.”

Credo choked. “Blue balls isn’t an actual thing,” he managed to splutter as Nero pulled him through the hospital corridors like they were being chased by something. “And shouldn’t you be taking it easy? I’ll ask the nurse when you’ve finished the forms.”

“Fuck the forms, I’m outta here.” Nero threw a nonchalant wave towards the reception desk and then they were outside. He paused for a second, blinking up at the bright sky. “Huh, it’s sunny,” he said, squeezing Credo’s hand. “Who knew.”

“I’ll ring Nico, but you have to let go of my hand first.”

“No need, she’s already here. I texted her earlier while you were getting food.”

Credo shook his head fondly. “I see you’ve thought of everything.”

“Yup. Come on, I want some proper food.” Nero checked his phone and then pulled on Credo’s hand again. “She’s in the D block or something, let’s go.”

And there she was, hanging out of the side of the van like nothing had happened. “Hey stranger.” Nico waved her hand towards Nero and Credo, a cigarette held between two fingers. “Get your ass inside already, Kyrie’ll kill me if I don’t get you guys home before the food gets cold.”

“Food?” Nero’s ears pricked up as he pulled himself up into the van. Credo squeezed in on the other side of him, and Nero casually rested his hand on Credo’s thigh. “Can’t wait, I’m fucking ravenous.”

“Yes, because they don’t feed you at all in hospital,” Credo said dryly, “and you haven’t eaten a thing,  _ all day _ .”

“Fuck off Credo, a shitty hospital cheese sandwich doesn’t even count as food.”

“Eh, he’s right,” Nico said as she floored it. “Is it even a sandwich if it’s not literally dripping fillings down your face?”

“Yeah, I know right? That’s what I said. Credo thinks anything’s a sandwich if it’s between two bits of bread.”

Nico snorted. “Yeah, I bet I know what  _ he’d _ like to have between two bits of bread.”

Credo stared around Nero, eyebrows crinkled. “What does that even  _ mean _ ?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you later.” Nero waggled his eyebrows at Credo as Nico guffawed on the other side of him.

\- - -

It took less time to get home than it probably should have, helped along somewhat by Nico’s idea of driving, which came straight from the school of If the Accelerator’s Not to the Floor at All Times, What Are You Even Doing in Life?

They came to a screeching halt outside the house, and the front door flung open to release what seemed like a horde of screaming, laughing kids followed by Kyrie, trying desperately to keep them all together. In reality, it was literally just Kyle, Julio and Carlo, although by the way they leapt at Nero when he got out of the van, they might as well have been a devouring swarm.

“Hey now, get off him,” Nico leapt down from the van and bodily plucked Julio and Carlo off Nero, swinging them in a wide circle before plopping them back down on the sidewalk. “Remember what we said about being civilised?” 

“And he’s just got out of hospital,” Kyrie finished, picking Kyle up and balancing him on her hip, despite the fact that he was wriggling like a greased weasel and mumbling something about how he was obviously too big to pick up now,  _ mama _ , but she just carried on holding him anyway, and embraced Nero with her other arm. “I’m glad you’re back, you had us worried sick!” She pulled away and then swatted him on the arm. “Don’t do anything like that again or I’ll- I’ll-”

“She’ll get me to kick your ass, you hear?” Nico leaned against Kyrie and grinned widely. “And I’d enjoy it, too.”

“Hah, I’d like to see you try.” Nero smirked right back, but his voice broke a little at the end, and he grabbed Credo’s hand tightly as the hoarseness set in.

“You need to take it easy,” Credo said in his ear, and wrapped an arm around Nero’s waist. “Maybe stop with all the talking, you need to let your throat rest, remember?”

Kyrie gave Nero the eyebrows and then led them all inside to eat.

\- - -

Around two hours later, Nero had to give in. He pushed himself away from the table with a groan and Credo helped him upstairs to their bedroom. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to thinking of it as  _ theirs _ , but he definitely liked it.

He let Nero down gently onto the bed and knelt in front of him. “How are you feeling?” He looked at the stitches around Nero’s throat and swallowed hard. 

“Just peachy,” Nero croaked, but he smiled down at Credo anyway. 

Credo leaned forward and rested his cheek on Nero’s thigh, arms draped on the bed and wrapped around Nero’s, well… his butt, really. “I can’t believe we’re home and everything is fine,” he breathed out, and then felt his cheeks heat up as he realised just how close he was to all of Nero’s…

And yet, Nero didn’t seem to mind. In fact, one of his hands slid into Credo’s hair, brushing it back from his face. “While you’re down there?” Nero smirked and leaned back on his other hand, head tilted as he regarded Credo there on his knees before him.

Credo buried his face in Nero’s thigh and took some deep breaths to calm himself. “Don’t think that counts as taking it easy,” he murmured, lifting up just enough to look Nero in the eye. “But how can I resist?”

“Mmm exactly,” Nero whispered, “and I can’t even talk too much either, so you get outta that one too.”

“Not getting to hear you isn’t getting out of  _ anything _ ,” Credo replied, though his cheeks went even redder. “l’ll just have to do more when your throat is better.” He smiled and began to work on removing Nero’s pants, fumbling a little until he found his confidence. 

Nero’s hand worked through his hair, petting and tugging slightly and tightening when Credo finally got his pants down. He wriggled under Credo’s fingers as he began exploring, touching him everywhere except where Nero desperately wanted him to. He groaned with impatience, and Credo smiled up at him from under his lashes.

“So much wiggling,” he murmured, and pressed a kiss to the inside of Nero’s knee, lingering over it with his tongue and hot, hot breath. “How about here?” He lifted Nero’s leg and nuzzled against the underside of his thigh, then laved it with kisses and gentle nibbles.

“Fuck,” Nero moaned under his breath, sinking back onto the bed and letting both of his legs drape over Credo’s shoulders. 

“Just relax,” Credo murmured, looking up at Nero with a little smile. God, but he looked amazing from this angle, and even better as Credo pulled down the waistband of his boxers enough to free his already-straining dick. “I’ve barely touched you,” he said, wonderingly.

“Barely need to,” Nero growled, tilting his hips upwards towards Credo. 

“And stop talking,” Credo growled right back, though his lips curled in a grin. He rested one hand flat on Nero’s belly and took hold of the base of his dick with the other, running his fingertips along the length of it, feeling out every gorgeous inch. He bent his head and licked tentatively, dipping his tongue into Nero’s slit and tasting him for the first time. Salty, and hot too, and Credo couldn’t help but sink down onto it, taking the whole length into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat.

Credo swallowed his instinctive gag reflex and concentrated on the taste and fullness in his mouth, the little noises Nero made, and the way his hands came down and sank into Credo’s hair, pulling tight and holding him firm, even though he couldn’t move his hips to fuck Credo’s mouth. 

Nero growled in frustration as Credo came up for breath, looking down at him like he was the only thing in the world. “You can’t leave me like that,” he whispered, throat actually hurting at this point - not that he’d be admitting it, but he could see the knowledge on Credo’s face.

“Have an idea,” Credo murmured. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then knelt upright and breathed out, letting his demonic side take form. His wings spread outwards and then curled back inside, brushing Nero’s bared belly with a whisper-touch.

“Fuck,” Nero breathed. 

“Shh.” Credo stood and flexed his wings, deliciously aware of the fact that the plates of armour at his groin had slid apart, letting his dick spring free, hard and gleaming already. “Come,” he reached down a hand and pulled Nero up onto his feet, “change too. Want you like this.” His voice had slipped down a few octaves, mind so focused on Nero, all his, his love, his  _ mate _ , that he wasn’t watching his words any more.

Nero obliged, his own wings springing from his shoulders as he grew to Credo’s height, muscles taut and all on show. 

Credo’s mouth nearly watered at the sight of him - his pecs and belly and scaled plates, and, even better, the way his own armour had moved aside for his dick too - it hung proud and glowing and heavy. Credo reached down between them and weighed it in his palm, claws delicate enough that they were but a whisper against Nero’s dick.

A whisper that had Nero keening, though, and he leaned against Credo’s chest, bucking his hips like he was starved for touch. Considering how they’d danced around each other for so long, he probably  _ was _ , and frankly, Credo was only too enthusiastic to give him all that he desired, and then some. 

Both of Nero’s wing-arms wrapped around Credo and pulled him close, and they devolved into a grinding, thrusting mess until Credo managed to topple them both backwards onto the bed. He knelt above Nero, pulled at his thighs -  _ god, his thighs _ \- until they were draped over his hips, giving him access to his ass. 

Credo lifted a hand to his mouth and licked his fingers, laving them with his tongue until they were soaked, eyes on Nero the whole time. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, trailing his index finger down to press against Nero’s entrance, “no claws. Unless you want them, anyway.”

“Don’t care, just fuck me!” Nero’s wings reached down and pushed Credo’s finger inside him, the ghostly hand guiding him, sliding in a second and then a third in far less time than they should be if they were being sensible. 

“Eager,” Credo growled, slicking up his dick with his free hand. “That’s a hell of an advantage, those wings.”

“You’re not fucking kidding,” Nero breathed, lifting his ass off the bed to allow Credo to push the thick, blunt head of his dick against his entrance. His wings stroked a path down Credo’s back, one of them petting through his feathers as the other made its inexorable way to his ass, gripping it with a hint of claw, and then pulling sharp enough to drive Credo all the way in.

“Those hands,” Credo gasped as he tried to steady himself, “are amazing.”

Nero nodded and grinned wide and feral. He slipped one of his ghostly hands down between them both and started to slowly stroke his dick, while at the same time his other one kept its tight hold on Credo’s ass, claws and all.

Credo groaned as Nero’s claws dug in, and then his corporeal claws followed, one hand going into Credo’s head fluff and the other sinking into the feathers at his chest, holding him close as they rocked together.

Nero’s ghostly hands didn’t let up, and it was all they could both do to move together and breathe through their kisses, panting and growling and all claws and teeth until they came, one after the other and in short succession.

They leaned against each other, catching their breath as sunshine began to filter through the blinds; Credo’s feathered wings draped across Nero’s chest, encircling them both in creamy softness.

The light through Credo’s feathers was dreamy and warm, and Credo sighed with happiness. He shifted his hips as his dick softened, sliding out of Nero’s ass with a wet sound. Nero groaned and pressed himself closer into Credo’s chest, burying his nose into the feathers there. “Throat hurts,” he mumbled, sounding like he’d screamed his way through seven swarms of demons.

“Not surprised,” Credo murmured, and pressed a kiss to Nero’s temple, burying his own nose into Nero’s feathers. “Like a pair of birds,” he said, then chuckled deep in his chest. 

“Fucking lovebirds maybe.” Nero croaked out a laugh. “I do, you know. Love you.” He buried his entire face into Credo’s chest, probably flushing purple through all his demonic skin.

“I know,” Credo replied, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face. “Love you too.” 


End file.
